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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886449">Proactive Measures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrum_Cipher/pseuds/Astrum_Cipher'>Astrum_Cipher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(that awkward moment when you both volunteered for stuff at your kids' school and he kidnaps you), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt May Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, In this house we love and respect May Parker, Kidnapping, May Parker (Spider-Man) Needs a Hug, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Mother-Son Relationship, NOT a 'Woman Hurt for Man Pain' fic, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Parker-centric, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Plot Relevant Whump, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:29:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>70,337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrum_Cipher/pseuds/Astrum_Cipher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrian Toomes will do anything for his family. Even destroy another.</p><p>After finding out Spider-Man’s identity Vulture makes sure that he stays out of the way by taking a hostage. Robbing the Stark jet is easy after that, and now both Parkers are captured with no hope of escape.</p><p>With only themselves to rely on Peter and May struggle to find a way out of an impossible situation. Before it’s too late.<br/>-<br/>Meanwhile, Ned and MJ do everything they can to help find the missing Parkers</p><p>[Homecoming AU]<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>PSA (03/03/2021): life kicked my teeth in, updates will be sporadic. Wear your masks, don't go out, wash your hands, don't kill someone else's family members</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Liz Allan &amp; Adrian Toomes, May Parker &amp; Adrian Toomes, May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Peter Parker, Michelle Jones &amp; Ned Leeds, Peter Parker &amp; Adrian Toomes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Wrap Your Teeth Around the Pavement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vulture gave Peter a choice.<br/>He was prepared for him to make the wrong one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're just going to ignore the weirdly nice apartment that the mcu showed the Parkers living in.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’ve seen you around, right? I mean... Somewhere...Because even the voice…” It was definitely familiar. It’s been itching at the back of his head since he first opened the door.</p><p>“He does Academic Decathlon with me,” Liz said, Peter sitting stiff as a board at her side.</p><p>Toomes didn’t have to think long before it clicked. He <em> had </em> seen the kid around Academic Decathlon stuff. Peter was May’s kid.</p><p>He looked in the rearview mirror, getting a glimpse of Peter’s pale face before focusing on the road again. Nephew, if he’s remembering right.</p><p>Most of the kids on the Academic Decathlon team would look at least vaguely familiar. And their parents even more so. He would like for them to look less familiar since the only reason they did was because the damn bus was never on time when they came back from competitions. </p><p>But that didn’t quell the niggling feeling that was bugging him. The kid’s voice in particular.</p><p>“Peter was at my party too.”</p><p>He made a sound of understanding, Peter complimenting the party and the house. Then Liz mentioned how Peter disappeared, how he always disappeared…</p><p>Then it hit him like a freight train, the pieces all falling into place.</p><p>He had Spider-Man in the back of his car, Spider-Man was his daughter’s homecoming date.</p><p> Spider-Man was a goddamn <em> kid</em>. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Peter, nothing is more important than family. You saved my daughter’s life. I could never forget something like that. So I’m gonna give you one chance. Are you ready? You walk through those doors, you forget any of this happened. And don’t you ever, ever interfere with my business again. Because if you do, I’ll kill you and everybody you love. I’ll kill you dead. That’s what I’ll do to protect my family. Do you understand?”</p><p>“Hey, I just saved your life. Now, what do you say?”</p><p>“...Thank you.”</p><p>“Your welcome. Now, you go in there and you show my daughter a good time, okay? Just not too good.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Toomes glared after Peter, turmoil and frustration bubbling in his chest. The stress and anticipation of the heist he was going to commit tonight combined with the adrenaline from the realization that he’d had Spider-Man in the backseat of his car. Grinding his teeth he checked the safety on his gun and then laid it on the seat next to him, returning his hands to the wheel and his eyes to the road.</p><p>He drove so he was out of the drop-off zone, but didn’t leave. They knew the Spider bastard was young, but Toomes had thought he was at least in his 20s. But no, he was a fifteen year old child. A frustratingly persistent and dedicated boy who happened to have powers. Toomes kept his business close to the ground, below the radar of the feds or the state. No one powerful enough to actually stop them cared to do so. </p><p>Except for little vigilantes like Spider-Man.</p><p>And even those people lacked the back-up needed to really take them down. So when a guy started swinging around Queens and catching buses Toomes had taken notice but hadn’t been concerned. Even when he went and got tied up with the Avengers, with that bastard Stark, Toomes hadn’t been worried, figuring the guy had been recruited and would leave the streets of New York City to go fight alien robots or whatever the Avengers did. But he hadn’t; the little annoyance had stayed and now someone who was actually on the ground had Stark’s ear. Toomes still hadn’t cared overly much, at the end of the day Spider-Man was just one person. </p><p>Then their weapons had caught the vigilante’s attention. </p><p>Spider-Man was a dog with a bone, unwilling to let go. His guys had slipped up, and it had cost them. Now the FBI was on their tail and Iron Man had gotten involved, tonight was one last job before they cut and run, hopefully with a small fortune in their pockets. It was supposed to be simple, dangerous but worth the reward. And that was without worrying about Spider-Man. Now the job had become incredibly more risky, their odds of success plummeting because of a kid.</p><p>He’d let him go because he owed him Liz’s life. A life for a life. And he’d warned the kid too.</p><p>It was a gamble, but his honor had demanded it. Toomes didn’t regret it, fair’s fair, but he wasn’t about to bet everything on the assumption that a 15 year old boy would realize how bad of an idea it was to pick a fight with a man like him.</p><p>The kid could be on the phone with Stark right this second and Toomes would be none the wiser. His already stormy mood soured even more at the thought. </p><p>He hits the steering wheel hard enough for his palm to ache.</p><p>“Fuck!”</p><p>Toomes takes a calming breath. He hasn’t gotten this far by being stupid, precautions were in order. Proactive was better than reactive.</p><p>He didn’t trust the look in Peter’s eyes, calculating and decisive. Toomes is almost certain that he had already made up his mind about what he was going to do, he doesn’t think that the kid even registered the warning he’d given. It isn’t too surprising, no matter how strong or fast he was he was still a child. Still impulsive and playing hero while the shine of Stark’s armor blinded him to the consequences. Toomes needed to drive the point home, then.</p><p>He was going to station one of his men here, at the school, Toomes decided. If, when, Peter rushed out to chase after him he’d be met with a surprise. The more he thought about it the less he doubted his guy, even with tech, would be able to hold Spider-Man back for long. He’d made the mistake of underestimating the kid before and he wasn’t doing it again, not with so much riding on tonight and when Peter knew too much.  </p><p>Toomes didn’t want anything flashy or dangerous going on so close to the school dance where Liz and so many other kids were. If there were gunshots or explosions it would cause a panic, it was a risk to both Liz and to tonight’s mission. So his guy would basically be a distraction for Peter and an early warning for Toomes.</p><p>The boy could be rushing out of the gym any second, Toomes had to act now to get all the pieces in place in time. He had a plane to catch, after all.</p><p>He opened the glove compartment, hand closing over the phone he used exclusively for work. He took out the cell, the screen lighting up. If Peter listened, then it would lead to nothing. If he didn’t…</p><p>Toomes would be ready. He’d told him that he’d do anything to protect his family, and he meant it. Peter had to be keeping this secret, there was no way she had any idea what he was doing.</p><p>Damn, stupid boy. Toomes didn’t want to do this, it would complicate things. </p><p>He brought the phone to his ear, speaking the second the line picked up.</p><p>“How are we?”</p><p>Toomes listened as his subordinate gave him an update on where they were with the heist, everything was going smoothly. He responded when needed. They were going to need to tweak the timing if his hunch about Peter getting involved was correct.</p><p>He said as much, listening with half an ear as he mulled over his decision. Deciding how he wanted it to play out. It was going to be pretty simple, downright easy. It was distasteful, this wasn’t normally how he liked to operate, but necessary.</p><p>He had the perfect incentive to encourage Peter’s cooperation. Toomes didn’t even have to look up a name or pick a target, there was only one option. He could give his men a physical description if he wanted. He even knew she had chaperoned at school events a few times.</p><p>Just like he has.</p><p>As a widowed single mother whose kid was too brilliant for her tax bracket to handle she was one of the few other parents that didn’t quite fit in with the more well-off crowd that a school like Midtown Tech attracted. They’d been able to recognize that in each other immediately, their occasional conversations a break from the sometimes stiflingly smarmy atmosphere that he put up with in the name of being involved in Liz’s school. They didn’t even talk beyond cursory greetings most of the time. She didn’t look down at him with backhanded compliments about his work, he didn’t offer her pity masquerading as tittering sympathies. Sometimes they shared a quiet scoff when a stereotypically over involved and pretentious parent who had more money than sense wouldn’t stop complaining. </p><p>They both spent a decent amount of time standing around the school parking lot getting sunburned as they waited for the bus to return from Academic Decathlon tournaments, or attending the award ceremonies of those tournaments that always dragged out at least an hour longer than they were scheduled to. A wave or a nod of acknowledgement as they picked up their respective kids. They weren’t what Toomes would call friends, they didn’t have each other’s numbers, but he did know her.</p><p>He’s done worse things, Toomes reminded himself. Even if it had never been anything that was so close to his family, so close to Liz. Anger swelled within him at the thought, again he cursed Spider-Man for forcing him into this position.</p><p>It wasn’t that he regretted having to do this, regret was too strong a word. But he would have preferred not to. He would prefer a lot of things in his life, that had never done anything for him. Only hard work, only action, had ever given Toomes anything.</p><p>Toomes did what he had to do, nothing more. </p><p>He stole from people like Stark. He made and sold weapons. He took care of his guys and they took care of him. </p><p>Until recently he hadn’t killed anyone, because he hadn’t needed to. Spider-Man had ruined a lot for him, enough that even though normally Toomes would have found the idea of killing a kid beneath him he was more than willing to make an exception for the little brat in spandex if it came to it.</p><p>He could even respect the kid a little. As a sign of that respect he was going to treat him like the threat he was.</p><p>Killing wasn’t a line he wouldn’t cross, but he could still recognize that there was a line. Overstepping made your stance unbalanced anyways. Getting to the point of murder meant that they had messed up a dozen ways to get there, it was somewhere Toomes would rather not be.</p><p>Discretion had been their best friend these past few years. Killing meant murder investigations, someone could follow a trail of blood straight to his business if he wasn’t vigilant.</p><p>Besides, it was bad for morale. He didn’t like it, most, if not all, of his guys didn’t. Trust was a precious resource, as the boss he had to use it wisely. They trusted that he would lead them well, he trusted that they would do what he asked. If he had begun making them kill every little annoyance then the whole operation would have collapsed years ago.</p><p>As they finished discussing the most urgent details, Toomes put his plan into motion.</p><p>“Get four guys ready, I have a job for them and it’s going to be fast.” He looked in the direction that Liz and Peter had disappeared to, towards the gym where the dance was being held. Bright lights, streamers, and balloons decorated the building. Kids in dresses and suits waving goodbye to their parents as they entered the gym. </p><p>Liz was going to college in less than a year. </p><p>He was going to give her the opportunities that he never had and that she has always deserved. He was so proud of her. He remembered when she would stand on his feet so they could ‘dance’ and now she was a beautiful young woman attending the last Homecoming dance of her high school career. </p><p>He wonders where the time went.</p><p>He and Doris were getting older, thinking about retirement. Doris’ fingers were stiffening up with what the doctor said was rheumatoid arthritis, his cholesterol wasn’t where it should be for someone who’s father had died of a heart attack. He kept putting off getting his eyes checked, both of them knowing he had to squint to read, and the price of insulin was never what it should be.</p><p>When they had first gotten married and when Liz was a lot younger, money had been a lot tighter than it was now, but he’d worked hard and his business had kept their heads above water well enough. Until Damage Control. Until Stark and the Avengers had nearly put him and all his men in the hole and buried them there.</p><p>So he and his men had adapted and carved out a place for themselves where they weren’t just getting by, but thriving. It had paid off. They were comfortable and Liz had a college fund.</p><p>Liz was never going to have to worry about the price of tuition, he and his wife were going to be able to enjoy their retirement together. He would make sure of it.</p><p>Nothing could stop him from taking care of his family. Not Stark. Not the Avengers. Not Damage Control. Not the FBI or the police. No one.</p><p>Spider-Man wasn’t going to ruin everything and stop him from making sure that his family had what they needed.</p><p>Toomes wasn’t going to let one little brat burn down everything he’d built.</p><p>“A kid got nosy and found out more than he should have about our business, we’re going to convince him to stay out of our way. You guys are going to pick up the incentive.”</p><p>A quick curse and then agreement was the response.</p><p>“You’ll be able to find the address in Midtown School of Science and Tech’s records, she’s a parent. She’s alone, so it should be easy. Hide your faces. You’re going to make it look like a robbery, and take her car too. Dump it somewhere out of the way and outside the city.”  He paused, remembering his mens’ carelessness in the last few weeks. </p><p>“Make sure <em> not </em> to kill her, we need her alive,” he instructed sternly. “Last thing we need is a murder scene.”</p><p>Tonight, what he needed was Peter out of the way. That didn’t mean he had to kill him or anyone else tonight. Not yet, anyways. He’d keep that card up his sleeve for later.</p><p>If Peter made the right choice then it wouldn’t matter.</p><p>He glances towards the gym again as he speaks into the phone.</p><p>“May Parker.”</p><p>If there was one thing Vulture and Spider-Man could agree on it was that nothing was more important than family. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Peter probably shouldn’t have been surprised that there was someone waiting for him, but he was.</p><p>“He gave you a choice, you chose wrong,” the man said.</p><p>Peter scowled. “What the hell?”  Electricity?</p><p>He ignored the bad guy’s question about his suit, it stung worse than the guy could ever know. A reminder of how Mr. Stark had left him high and dry, how Peter wasn’t good enough.</p><p>But it didn’t matter, suit or no suit he had to go after Vulture. Peter didn’t know what he was going to do, but ‘out of town’ and ‘one last time’ didn’t sound like it was going to be a good thing.</p><p>The fight goes on, and Peter is bracing himself for a direct blast from the bad guy’s gauntlet when Ned appears.</p><p>He loves Ned, always there when Peter needed him most.</p><p>Peter rushes to get his web-shooters back where they belong, adrenaline burning through his veins. He’s nearly vibrating.</p><p> In the fancy suit Mr. Stark had given him Peter had felt invincible, and while he would defend his homemade suit until he was blue in the face he had to admit that it felt downright clunky in comparison. It ratcheted the urgency and mild panic up even higher, he wasn’t equipped for this.</p><p>But it didn’t matter because he had to do it, suit or no suit. Standing around wasn’t an option.</p><p>“Ned!” he called, “I need to go after the guy with the wings! I need you to call Happy Hogan. He’s Mr. Stark’s head of security,” he was speaking fast, words running into each other, but he was confident Ned would understand him. “And I, uh, need you to get a computer to track my phone for me.”</p><p>He forcefully pushed back the gnawing feeling of guilt in his stomach. Liz didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve her father to be Vulture or for her date to ditch her. And if Peter did things right then her dad was going to jail.</p><p>Peter was going to ruin Liz’s life and as horrible as he felt about it he was still doing it.</p><p>Peter had made a choice in the car the moment he left his phone there, and then another when he decided to go after it. He had made a decision long before any of this, when he first decided to put on a mask. So now he had to follow through on it.</p><p>Following someone in a car when you didn’t really know how to drive was a terrible idea, Peter found out. </p><p>Especially in a nice car that wasn’t yours. Peter had thrown a small snit when May hadn’t allowed him onto the streets yet, claiming he needed more practice in empty parking lots. As usual it turned out she’d been right.</p><p>He couldn’t even find the headlights and drive at the same time. He inwardly cursed, then outwardly cursed, as he tried to use every enhanced reflex he possessed to follow the instructions Ned was giving him, counting the seconds until he could get in contact with Happy.</p><p>A shout and near miss later he wonders how long it takes someone to answer a phone.</p><p>“Hey, have you got through to Happy yet?” Peter asks, grinding his teeth as he tried to avoid crashing before he got to where he needed to be. And he had no idea where that was. </p><p>Vulture had a head start, and wings, Peter had no idea where he was going or even why he was going. He didn’t know how much gas Flash’s car had, and with the way he was driving he was going to wreck before he made it anywhere. If Toomes was really going out of town then Peter wasn’t going to be able to catch up to him, not with his driving.  But he needed to be on his tail, at least until Iron Man could show up.</p><p>Damn it, Peter really hadn’t thought this through at all.</p><p>“Working on it!”</p><p>“Headlights?” Peter prompted after a few moments, his enhancement meant he could see better than most people in the dark, but that didn’t mean anything on the road because other cars couldn’t see him.</p><p>To his relief Ned told him how to turn them on. Thank goodness his best friend was so smart and could multitask. At his prompting Ned was able to give him an update to where his phone was. An industrial park in Brooklynn, which made no sense to Peter.</p><p>“He said he was going out of town!”</p><p>The moment the words left his mouth Peter realized how ridiculous he sounded. Why had Peter taken the man at his word when he told his family he was going out of town? In hindsight that might have been dumb, Peter acknowledged to himself. Yet another thing to add to the ‘didn’t think that through’ list of tonight.</p><p>Hope soared in his chest when Ned’s voice informed him that he’d gotten in touch with Happy, only to come crashing back to earth in a flaming husk of betrayal when his friend continued to speak.</p><p>“...Don’t think he likes you very much…”</p><p><em> Yeah </em>, Peter thought, bitter and burning with anger. The steering wheel warped under his strength as he tightened his grip. This was important and Happy had hung up on him! He was fucking trying to do the right thing! Was trying to call in Iron Man! And he couldn’t! The same feeling that had engulfed him when Mr. Stark had dismissed and patronized him reared its ugly head.</p><p>His own words came back to him. </p><p>
  <em> None of this would’ve happened if you had just listened to me! </em>
</p><p>The crushing despair of having the suit taken from him and of having failed so spectacularly as to be dismissed by his hero had overshadowed the moment, but Peter remembered it now.</p><p>If Mr. Stark had talked to Peter and told him that he had called the FBI then maybe the ferry wouldn’t have been split in half.</p><p>If Mr. Stark hadn’t cut him off then maybe Happy would have answered the fucking phone. Maybe if Happy didn’t treat him like an annoyance instead of a person he wouldn’t be chasing after a guy with metal wings when he should be at a dance.</p><p>It didn’t matter, Peter decided, scowling. He had to go after Vulture himself? Fine. That’s what having these powers meant, that’s what being Spider-Man meant, so he would do it. He had a responsibility and it didn’t matter if Iron Man didn’t listen to him or if he didn’t have a fancy superhero suit anymore. He had his webs and he had his powers and that was going to have to be enough.</p><p>Peter was pulled from his angry musings as Ned’s words registered in his head, Peter quickly realizing what Vulture was going to do.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes?”</p><p>It all suddenly made horrifying sense.</p><p>“Boxes? It’s moving day. It’s moving day! He’s going to rob that plane! I gotta stop him!”</p><p>He didn’t have any time! It was all going to happen tonight! That’s why Vulture was in Brooklyn! He was going to intercept the plane! Shit!</p><p>Peter listened as Ned directed him through the last leg of his journey.</p><p>“Turn right! Turn right!”</p><p>Peter turns right. He crashes towards the right.</p><p>“Peter, are you alright?”</p><p>I was just in a car accident, Peter thinks dazedly. Car accident, with Flash’s car. His ears are ringing.  Blinking at the world from the angle of the car on it’s side for a moment, Peter climbs out of the mangled car. <em> What am I doing? </em> Part of him wonders, looking at the violent warping the metal of the car had undergone. He could smell gasoline and Peter wondered if the car was going to blow up.</p><p>Having climbed out of a car wreck, wearing his homemade suit, and with his best friend giving him instructions to track down his date’s villain dad, Peter can’t help but feel a little absurd. Spider-Man couldn’t fly, if he didn’t catch Vulture on the ground or within reach of his webs there wasn’t much he was going to be able to do besides yell at him.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, trying to sound calm. Spider-Man, he’s Spider-Man. “Just keep trying to get through to Happy.” </p><p>After Ned’s sign off, Peter realizes he never told him who Vulture was. Peter shook his head, dismissing the thought. </p><p>Whatever, he had more important things to focus on right now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Using his webs, Peter slowly descends into the dark building. He looks around, amazed at the monitors and technology. Computers who’s screens have blueprints of what looks like Stark Tower on them, Peter thinks he sees one with blueprints of a plane. It’s impressive in a ‘dark villain lair’ way.</p><p>Peter spots mechanical wings that are unmistakably Vulture’s and knows he’s in the right place. Anticipation bubbles in his chest, adrenaline buzzing stronger in his veins.</p><p>Then he spots Vulture.</p><p>“Hey!” Peter calls out with more bravado than he feels. “Surprised?”</p><p>Vulture is leaning against a desk, watching Peter approach impassively. Peter thought that he would at least be a little surprised. Peter had gotten past the electricity Shocker-man, and he’d been able to track Vulture down.</p><p>So why was he so calm?</p><p>“Oh, hey, Pete. I didn’t hear you come in.” </p><p>Hearing his name when he’s Spider-Man is off putting, especially when it’s said in such a casual way. Like they were friends. </p><p>“I want you to know that I’m being <em> very </em> generous right now, because I’m going to give you another warning. And you better remember this one.” Peter had no idea what that meant, and his next sentence didn’t clarify it. Vulture’s right hand went to his waist, grabbing a radio that was hanging off of his belt, he fiddled with it, pressing a button. “There. Now, this thing is on and if my guys hear anything they don’t like or if the signal cuts it’ll be game over.”</p><p>Okay, so their conversation was being listened in on. Peter didn’t understand what he meant by ‘game over’ but he already didn’t like it. Vulture was too confident, too sure, for Peter not to be worried.</p><p>“<em>Your </em>game is over. I’ve got you,” Peter says instead of replying. With his arms at his sides, he stretches his fingers in anticipation. Maybe there was more than one wing suit? Is that what he meant? That he wasn’t alone?</p><p>Vulture shakes his head, still leaning against the worktable. Relaxed.</p><p>“You know, I gotta tell you, Pete, I really, really admire your grit. I see why Liz likes you. I do,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed but amused. It’s the same way someone would say they were impressed when a dog did something clever. “When you first came to the house, I wasn’t sure. I thought, ‘Really?’ But I get it now.”</p><p>Behind his mask, Peter frowns. The itch of unease growing stronger. Making a split second decision and hoping to quell his own nerves he shoots a web towards Vulture, sticking his left hand to the table.</p><p>Vulture gave a heavy sigh, not even attempting to pull his hand free. “Peter, you’re young and you don’t understand how the world works yet.”</p><p>“I understand that selling weapons to criminals is <em> wrong </em>,” Peter shoots back furiously, voice hard.</p><p>A memory twists painfully in his chest. Peter's hands squeeze into fists, he forces himself to relax them again. </p><p>Toomes stares for a moment, thoughtful. “But only when I do it, right?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“How do you think your buddy Stark paid for that tower? Or any of his little toys?” He asks, he doesn’t wait for Peter to answer. “Those people, Pete, those people up there, the rich and the powerful, they do whatever they want. Guys like us, like you and me, they don’t care about us.” </p><p>He believes what he’s saying, Peter realizes. Vulture was speaking with true conviction.  </p><p>Toomes jerks his chin towards him. “What’s with the outfit? Stark cut you off? Why? Because you didn’t say ‘how high’ when he told you to jump? I bet that’s what it was.” Expression hidden by his mask Peter scowled. “You’re young,” he repeated. “But you stick to your guns. They don’t like that, Pete.”</p><p>His voice goes hard, more serious than it’s been since the conversation began. </p><p>“We build their roads and we fight all their wars and everything, but they don’t care about us. We have to pick up after ‘em. We have to eat their table scraps. That’s how it is. I know you know what I’m talking about.”</p><p>“What about Liz?” He cries, having been wondering since the moment he realized who Vulture was. Genuinely distressed for Liz’s sake. “How could you do this to her!?”</p><p>“That’s my line.”</p><p>Peter turned the statement over in his head, confused. How could Peter do this to Liz? He didn’t think that made much sense.</p><p>Vulture’s eyes drill into Peter, like he could see right through his mask. His expression is dark, dangerous, as he lifts his free hand up to reach into his jacket. </p><p>Peter tenses, expecting a gun, a weapon. Slowly, Vulture pulls his hand out from his pocket, brandishing his prize. </p><p>Peter’s heart stops dead in his chest.</p><p>The blood drains from his face, body going numb and cold. Suddenly dizzy, he is physically incapable of looking away. Peter can’t even breathe.</p><p>Each one of Vulture’s next words is spoken with a chillingly mean deliberation. </p><p>
  <em> “How could you do this to her, Peter?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In Vulture’s hand, a familiar pair of glasses.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>First chapter of my first published work!! I'm excited, and scared. Let me know what you think! I'm not sure how long this is going to end up being, the first chapter already turned into 2 because it was getting too long. </p><p>May is a main character, she'll make an appearance soon, promise! Tony is also going to make an appearance but that's later, i'll add his character tag when he shows up. But he's a minor character, this isn't an irondad story.</p><p>I have a tumblr! https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Crawl & Beg & Plead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter faces the possibility of reliving his greatest horror.<br/>There's so much blood.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah, we're still at the industrial yard.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">|Spider-Man &amp; Vulture|</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “How could you do this to her, Peter?” </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Now Peter knew what Vulture had up his sleeve.</p><p>A sudden chill that began at his sternum was slowly creeping outwards.</p><p>No. No, no, no, <b> <em>NO</em> </b>--</p><p>Without even thinking Peter takes a large heaving step towards Toomes, a chain tied to his core jerking him forward instinctively. He would have charged, would have had his hands around the man’s throat faster than the human eye could see, but just in time he remembered.</p><p>His eyes shot to the radio.</p><p>Peter froze, every muscle rigid, not even daring to breathe.</p><p>What should he do? What could he do? Peter was paralyzed with indecision.</p><p>Eyes wide with both panic and fury he stared at Vulture, taking in every detail. The dust, the shadows, the light from the windows. The hardness of his eyes, the way the light from the lamp made the shadows of his face longer. His left hand was still stuck to the desk. There was a dark stain over the kneecap of his jeans. A stain, Peter realized, that was dark <em> red</em>.</p><p> Peter was suddenly hyper aware of how the fabric of his mask felt on his skin, each and every stitch suffocating. It was too tight. The part of the mask pressed over his lips was moist from his mouth, his nose was being smooshed. His goggles pressing too tightly against the bones of his eye sockets, beginning to bruise. Peter blinked, eyes stinging. The layered long sleeve shirt and sweater he wore were overheating him, his skin itching with sweat. His pants were loose around his legs but too small, riding up uncomfortably. Peter’s gloves were too big, his web-shooters weren’t tight enough against his wrist, chafing.</p><p>The air smelled and tasted of dust and old metal. Peter could feel every single pound of himself weighing down on the soles of his feet, suddenly aware of how precarious balancing so much weight on two legs was. He didn’t know what to do with his arms, the limbs tense and still at his sides. Deafened by the sound of blood rushing his ears. His heart beat. The muscle pounding, constricting.</p><p>Every single atom of Peter’s body was buzzing, completely cognizant of his state of existence in this moment. </p><p>Pathetic. Terrified. Enraged.</p><p>A breath fought its way out of his mouth, a quick, hard burst of air. When he inhaled it was like his ribs had shrunk, a full breath of what might as well have been smoke. </p><p>“So you can listen.”</p><p> Peter snapped out of his own head and back to the present, looking up at Vulture. When had he looked down? The man was leaning against the table again, watching carefully. How much time had passed? Peter had to fight to hear him, sound lost to the vastness of the warehouse and the storm in Peter’s head.</p><p>Then a crack through the fear. Hope.</p><p>Maybe he was bluffing. Peter latched onto the thought, rationalizing it to himself. Making the possibility real.</p><p>“How do I know you’re not bluffing?” Peter was surprised how sharp and even his voice was.</p><p>“Questioning what you're told. I can respect that.” </p><p>He was still too calm, and Peter realized with dawning horror that Toomes must not be bluffing. He wouldn’t be so at ease if he was. And how would he have those exact glasses? </p><p><em> Maybe you’re wrong</em>, another part of his brain desperately suggested, <em> maybe they just look like her glasses and you’re panicked for nothing. What if he was just a really good liar? </em></p><p>He must be, to lie to his family for so many years. Right?</p><p>Toomes looked towards the glasses, tilting them, examining them almost mockingly. Peter watched as he tucked the glasses back into his jacket and pulled out a cellphone.</p><p>The screen came to life, Toomes' face lit up in the darkness from the phone's light.</p><p>Peter stared, frozen as Toomes listed off details about the apartment, each word another nail driven into Peter’s skull. Hope shriveled and died at the back of Peter’s throat, obstructing his airway. Choking him.</p><p>“And she’s wearing a navy jacket and jeans,” he added last. Peter felt his lungs collapse in his chest. “But you don’t have to take my word for it, I have pictures. She’s a little <em> tied up </em> right now, but you can see how she’s doing.”</p><p>Peter didn’t want to see them. Didn’t need to.</p><p>He waited a few moments for Peter’s retort, it didn’t come.</p><p>“You should be proud. She put up a hell of a fight. Cracked one of my guys’ head open,” a glint of what might have been respect appeared and left too quickly for Peter to be sure it had ever been there at all. “She fought tooth and nail,” a twitch that was almost a smile. “I can see where you got it from.”</p><p>Peter didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Everything was far away and cold.</p><p>Without realizing it Peter had begun shaking his head back and forth, slow and jerky. Denial, disbelief. No, no, no. Not May.</p><p>It was, but it couldn’t be.</p><p>If he turned around and took a bus back home, May would be there. That was how it worked, what was. That’s how the world existed. This couldn’t be real. For it to be real a reality had to exist that Peter could not accept.</p><p>“No? No, what?”</p><p>Peter isn’t sure. He doesn’t know anything. His mind simultaneously quiet and deafening, empty except for panic and rage and May. His entire body feels hollowed out and frail, a light wind would tear right through him, scattering the pieces of Peter Parker like a dandelion.</p><p>“I warned you, Peter,” Toomes reminds ruthlessly.</p><p>A lot of people had warned him, Peter realizes.</p><p>Toomes had given him an out, he hadn’t taken it. Mr. Stark had ordered him to stay away from Vulture, Peter had disobeyed him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If you spot something like that happening, you turn and you run the other way. </em>
</p><p>Aunt May had warned him.</p><p> </p><p>Peter should have listened.</p><hr/><p>“You won’t be able to find her.” He tapped the radio, as if Peter needed the reminder. “And someone with their finger on the trigger is listening, so don’t get any ideas.”</p><p>Peter didn’t say anything, numb.</p><p>“Let’s take this nice and slow,” Vulture said calmly. He put the phone back into his jacket, reaching for the folded knife that was clipped to his pocket. Peter watched as the knife unfolded, watched at Vulture calmly cut away the web that had been trapping his hand.</p><p>Every part of Peter was screaming <em> Do something! </em> But he didn’t know what he could do. Someone, at this moment, was pointing a gun at May’s head.</p><p>Someone was pointing a gun at his aunt and Peter couldn’t move. </p><p>He couldn’t move. </p><p>He couldn’t move,<em> couldn’t move </em> as the spike of panic stabbed into every part of his awareness, couldn’t move as the crack of a gunshot cut through the night, <em> couldn’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t fucking move as Ben-- </em></p><p>“Take off any weapons or gear you’ve got on,” Vulture said, his voice dragging Peter back and out of his own head. “We’re going to double check, so don’t get any ideas.”</p><p>But he still couldn’t move, would never be able to move, when that sharp bang reached his ears.</p><p>Vulture made a gesture towards his face.<em> Mask. Your mask. </em></p><p>It felt like a dream. Peter far away from his own body yet too aware of what was happening around him, the lack of anything actually happening. The outside was calm but his insides were wrecked.</p><p>Taking off his mask didn’t make it any easier to breathe, the air felt too dry against his newly exposed eyes. He blinked, brought up his mask to stare at it. Wondered if this was a nightmare.</p><p>He took off his web-shooters and any extra canisters of web fluid he had on him. They joined his mask on the floor. He unzipped his jacket and took out the little knock-off swiss army knife he carried around. It joined the pile.</p><p>“Alright, get over here,” Vulture instructed, turning around to grab something off the desk. “I’m going to tie you up, one of my guys is coming to pick you up. You’re going to stay out of my way the rest of the night, and we’ll see what happens tomorrow.”</p><p><em> What about Aunt May? </em>Peter wanted to ask. Wanted to scream.</p><p>They had a gun. They had a gun pointed at her and Peter wasn’t fast enough. He hadn’t moved. He’d known something was going to happen, that something was wrong he had his powers and Ben still--</p><p>Every step towards Vulture was a step away from his own body. He was too far away, then he was too close. Peter facing away from him, showing his back, as his hands were forced behind him.</p><p>Something cool and with a strange texture, almost like silly putty but more solid, makes contact with Peter’s right wrist, closing over it.</p><p>Peter’s vision goes black for a moment, he sways in place, static racing across his skin from the top of his head down to his toes.</p><p>“Wha-”</p><p>“I’m not an idiot, Peter,” Toomes says firmly. He held a palm over the radio and spoke lowly so as to not be overheard. “This,” he gives Peter’s right wrist a slight shake, “was made for species like Asgardians, species that have enhanced strength and powers. I figured it would work on Spider-Man. Seems like I was right.”</p><p><em> Oh </em>, Peter thinks, still feeling faint. Right. Duh. Alien technology. The Chitauri had been an army from space, of course they’d have power-sapping technology.</p><p>“Let Aunt May go,” Peter said, trying and failing to make his voice sound commanding. Feeling faint. “You have me, let her go.”</p><p>Toomes begins to tie his wrists and lower arms together with what feels and sounds like duct tape, then the bristly feeling of rope joins it.</p><p>
  <em> I can’t move, I can’t move-- </em>
</p><p>“I can’t,” Vulture’s words punctuated by a harsh tightening of the ropes.</p><p>Toomes’ voice sounded far away to Peter, like there was cotton in his ears. Then Peter realized that it wasn’t just shock or fear, it was that his enhanced hearing was dampened. His panic went up another notch at the realization.</p><p>
  <em> Peter screams, Ben makes a horrible gurgling noise-- </em>
</p><p>“She isn’t stupid and neither am I. If she gets abducted and released the same night you go missing she’ll start to connect the dots. I already have the feds on my tail, I don’t need to add a desperate parent,” he finishes angrily.</p><p>Peter didn’t have a response to that, Toomes was right. And if Ned got in touch with her, and then they were able to contact Happy…Maybe together they would have been able to figure it out.</p><p>“Does she know?”</p><p>The question is an eerie repetition to the one he had asked him in the car, now referring to a completely different ‘she.’ But Peter’s answer was the same.</p><p>“...No.” He answers faintly.</p><p>“Figures.”</p><p>Fear’s claws sunk deeper, clogging his throat, roots growing in his lungs.</p><p>Peter wasn’t getting out of this.</p><p>May wasn’t getting out of this.</p><p>He’d bitten off more than he could chew, just like Mr. Stark had said, now Peter was choking on it.</p><p>And he and May were paying the price.</p><p>Toomes walks around him and shoves the phone’s screen in front of Peter’s eyes. He can’t not see the image on the screen.</p><p>Peter’s heart stops.</p><p>He flinches like he was burned, choking on a gasp.  Horrified. He feels sick. He tries to jerk away from the image but Toomes’ grip and the restraints won’t let him.</p><p>Toomes’ expression is impassive.</p><p>The picture isn’t blurry or grainy, the lighting isn’t dark.</p><p>It’s all very clear.</p><p>She’s wearing the same clothes he saw her in only an hour ago.</p><p>There’s smears of red on them now.</p><p>It’s May.</p><p>And blood.</p><p>Her hands are tied behind her back with chains around her wrists, she’s gagged, face bruised bloody. She’s laying down, there’s blood around her. Unconscious.</p><p>Or dead.</p><p>Unconscious or dead, Peter couldn’t tell. <em> He couldn’t tell-- </em></p><p>It’s May and blood--<em> oh god--so much blood-- </em></p><p>Toomes turns the phone towards himself, looking at the picture again, expression a picture of composed ease.</p><p>“It got a bit rough.” It was casual, he could have been talking about a baseball game and his tone wouldn’t be any different.</p><p>He turned the screen back towards Peter. Peter’s face was bright in the darkness of the warehouse, he couldn’t take his eyes off the phone. Toomes could bring out a gun and press it against his forehead and Peter wouldn’t have noticed.</p><p>Everything was so far away and cold.</p><p>He doesn’t know anything. His head is empty except for panic and rage and May.</p><p>“What do you want?” Peter rasped. Anything, he’d give anything. He’d crack open his ribs and rip his own heart out right now if that was what it took.</p><p>Peter couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He was dizzy. Breaths coming faster and faster.</p><p>May. That was May, they were hurting May-</p><p>She was all he had left.</p><p>”If you did what I told you, this wouldn’t have happened,” Toomes said coldly. “If you stayed out of the way, they were going to release her. Robbery turned abduction where they let the victim go. May doesn’t know anything, she would have walked away with a couple of bruises.” </p><p>Peter wouldn’t call the images he saw ‘a couple of bruises’, he didn’t voice the thought, didn’t know if his voice would even work. </p><p>“But you forced my hand and threw away the chance I gave you, so here we are.”</p><p>As he finished talking someone else entered the warehouse, their strides were unhurried as they walked up to Vulture.</p><p>“I have a plane to catch,” Toomes told Peter. “You’re going with him. If you care about your aunt you’ll behave.”</p><p>Toomes grabbed something from another pocket from inside his jacket, then handed it to the man.</p><p>“Scramble the metadata on this thing so it never left Midtown Tech and drop it on the sidewalk in front of the gym,” he instructed him, he looked at Peter, “these things slip out of pockets so easily, I bet there are going to be at least a couple of kids who lost track of them during the dance.”</p><p>It was Peter’s phone.</p><p>He had played right into his hands, the realization a punch to the stomach that knocked the breath from his lungs. The sudden shock of it, the pain. </p><p>Vulture had kept the electricity gauntlet guy outside the school because he knew Peter would leave the dance, he knew Peter had been tracking him so he laid a trap, and he knew that Peter would try to stop him anyways, so he’d taken a hostage.</p><p><em> I’m outclassed </em>, Peter thought. Despair settling thick and heavy over his shoulders, his heart beating like a rabbit’s, small and quick and fragile. Peter hadn’t felt small very often since realizing how strong his enhancement had made him, it was hard for Peter to feel physically intimidated now. Even in the heat of battle with Vulture over the lake or during the ferry everything had been moving too fast and too hard for him to have time to do anything other than act.</p><p>But now he felt smaller than ever.</p><p>Small and afraid.</p><p>May was hurt, because of him. And he couldn’t save her, he didn’t have his powers, didn’t have help. He didn’t have a plan. Peter had nothing.</p><p><em> I lost</em>, Peter thought. He felt like he’d been submerged in ice, a deep chilling ache and pressure all around him.  </p><p>
  <em> Peter can hear the gunman run away, the sound his shoes make on the asphalt. He hears the cars driving a little ways away. He hears his own voice through static. Hears ‘911 what’s your emergency’ from his phone’s little speaker, the screen has bloody fingerprints on it-- </em>
</p><p>Toomes walked over to him, leaning down so their faces were next to each other. Peter could smell his aftershave, a crisp smell that might have been sandalwood.</p><p>“I’m doing you a couple of favors here,” Toomes hissed into his ear. “These guys don’t really know who you are, just that you stuck your nose into our business. I wouldn’t suggest telling them, they won’t be as nice as I am.”</p><p>“What's the other favor?” Peter asked bitterly, surprised that his voice worked at all. It was like someone else had taken control of his body to say that. His grasp on his composure slipping by the second. He felt like he could shake apart, like his heart was going to give out. </p><p>
  <em> May. They had May.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>They had May.</em> </b>
</p><p>“Not killing you right away.” Toomes replied matter of factly. He leaned back, standing at his full height and glaring down at Peter coldly.</p><hr/><p>Peter was led outside.</p><p>The night air is fresh compared to inside, but it’s still a balmy Fall night. Peter feels cold.</p><p>They approach a white utility van, the tail lights and engine are on, the back doors are open. The lights in the back are on too. The inside of Peter’s throat turns in onto itself. There's puddles of red all over the interior, sitting in the grooves of the place mats. Smears where someone had halfheartedly tried to wipe it away.</p><p>“I told you guys to clean it up,” Toomes complained.</p><p>“We’re in a hurry,” the man replied. “Not our fault she bled so much.”</p><p>It hits Peter like a sledgehammer to the face.</p><p>The blood is <em> May’s </em>.</p><p>
  <em> Ben’s heart. The rhythm stutters-- </em>
</p><p>“If you breathe wrong my guys are going to put a bullet through your aunt’s skull and show you the video before putting a bullet in yours.” Toomes told Peter with a firm shake to his shoulder. “Got it?”</p><p>Peter pressed his lips together, he looked at the ground so he didn’t have to look at Vulture’s face or the interior of the van. Trying to calm down. Terrified of the image that had been suddenly forced to the forefront of his mind. Of May getting shot through the head. He couldn’t stop his imagination from conjuring image after gorey image. Of May’s dark brown eyes going blank. Dead. Peter swallowed, his breaths hitching as he gagged. Could he smell the blood from the van? No, he was imagining it. Wasn’t he?</p><p>God there was so much of it--</p><p>The image that he had seen on the phone. Bright scarlet. So much red. <em> Too much red. </em></p><p>The liquid that was right in front of him, on the van’s bloody, red floor--</p><p>May. Blood. Not moving.</p><p>His eyes burned, Peter gulped down air, stomach roiling.</p><p>
  <em> Peter couldn’t move. </em>
</p><p>May was replaced with Ben, limbs awkwardly sprawled, covered and surrounded by crimson. Ben replaced with May, drowned in their own blood on the cement. Pure fear burned through his veins, pumped by his pounding heart. Everything overlapping and the selfish ceaseless terror of being left completely alone was crawling up his throat as he shuddered and heaved.</p><p>A large warm hand jerked him to the side just as he lost the battle to not throw up.</p><p>The vomit burned the back of his throat and his nose, his eyes watering. Peter retched again, the sour taste of sick barely registering.</p><p>
  <em> Ben! Uncle Ben! Please! Please--! Uncle Ben please--! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-- </em>
</p><p>There was a rage so deep that it was almost frightening, burning down into the marrow, he was trembling with it. A monster that might crack open his ribs to escape. The part of him that wanted to beat Toomes into a bloody smear on the cement with his bare hands and wouldn’t regret it. It would be so easy to do. He could tear all of them apart. Every person who had even dared look at May, he could kill them with a single hit. Could rip off their arms without any effort. Peter doesn't remember ever thinking of how violent his strength could be. How easy it would be to just make the men doing this <em>go away</em>--</p><p>But he didn't have his powers anymore. He didn't have anything. Peter was completely helpless.</p><p>Humiliated, angry, lost, and terrified Peter fought to hold back the whine that wanted to escape him. He felt like a little kid, like when he’d wet the bed and the shame of it was so overwhelming that he could do nothing but cry for his aunt and uncle. Peter coughed, spitting up what was more acidic saliva than anything he had in his stomach. He dry heaved a few times.</p><p>He was dizzy and wanted to scream his throat raw. He wanted to kill Toomes. He wanted the Avengers to swoop in and save them. He wanted some sudden brilliant solution to pop into his head. He wanted for none of this to have happened. Wished that damn spider had never bitten him.</p><p>He wanted May. He wanted <em> Ben. </em></p><p>“Tch, you really are a kid.” Toomes’ words sounded far away, and the part of Peter that wasn’t gutted and screaming almost mustered up the wherewithal to be insulted, but he couldn’t.</p><p>With the disgusting taste of vomit in his mouth and tears stinging his eyes, Peter realized that Vulture was right. His face felt disgusting, unable to wipe his mouth because of his restraints. Nose and throat burning. Peter registered the fact that Toomes had turned him so that he hadn’t puked on himself. Maybe he just didn’t want to drag around someone who was covered in barf, but the humiliation burned all the stronger.</p><p>He was a kid, a boy, and he’d picked a fight with a man and he’d lost. </p><p>He couldn’t stop shaking, didn’t even know why. Shock, fear, anger, it all felt the same. A crushing violence that had nowhere to go.</p><p>Peter was a kid and May was his <em> mother </em>and she was hurt and bloody and Ben had died the same. </p><p> </p><p>“I gave you a choice, Peter. And you chose wrong.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> |Before Spider-Man’s Arrival at the Brooklyn Industrial Yard| </span>
</p><p> </p><p>A metal baton slammed onto the back of May’s skull.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Toomes watched the white utility van shut off, engine going quiet and taillights dark.</p><p>A man dressed in black stepped out from the driver’s side. Slamming the door closed as he made his way towards Toomes. The double doors from the back of the utility van opened, another man who was similarly dressed jumping down.</p><p>Toomes took a few steps closer to the vehicle to look inside, confirming his suspicion when the person remained unmoving.</p><p>He stared at the sprawled figure on the floor of the van, then turned back to look at his men. His expression asking the question for him.</p><p>“She’s not dead,” Chris said defensively, miffed.</p><p>“She fucking <em> bit </em>me!” Michael repeated for the nth time since it had happened. Feeling as if his colleagues were not giving it the attention it deserved. </p><p>He emphasized his words with a gesture to where he was holding a bloodied wad of gauze against his upper arm. He moved it away so Toomes could see the injury. The wound was impressive in it’s own way, Toomes supposed. It looked like someone had taken a small ice cream scooper and gouged out a piece of his arm. May hadn’t just bitten him, she’d ripped a chunk clean off.</p><p>“How long are you going to keep bitching about that?” Chris wondered, the other man glared at him. He turned his attention to Toomes. “Anyways. Not dead.”</p><p>“Depending how hard you hit her it might be ‘not dead yet’,” Toome pointed out with a growl. He wasn’t angry with them, they had done what he asked, just slightly annoyed.</p><p>“He didn’t hit her half as hard as she hit Reese,” Michael muttered, covering up the injury again. “Good thing she had a car you wanted us to take, Brent had to drive him to the hospital.”</p><p>“Should I have given you more back up?” Toomes asked, a little amused despite himself. “Maybe five more guys to even out the odds?”</p><p>As he spoke Toomes made a mental note to get an update on Reese later. With how lightly they all spoke about the injury it didn’t seem to be too serious, but he had to be sure.</p><p>“You could have warned us that she was feral,” Chris said grumpily. “You said it was going to be easy,” he added after a short pause. Not accusing, it was closer to a pout than a complaint.</p><p>“I said ‘should be easy’” Toomes corrected. “So you let your guard down,” he said flatly. Suddenly he was glad he’d thought to remind them to be careful about the scene and about not killing her. </p><p>They’d gotten comfortable and complacent. Careless.</p><p>And he included himself in that assessment. After all, none of this would be necessary if he’d been more careful. Good thing this was their last job, end on a high note before they tripped over their own feet.</p><p>Both men shifted their weight, frowning.</p><p>“The bite doesn’t count,” Michael muttered. </p><p>“Stop whining. Clean and wrap it up unless you want an infection,” Toomes suggested.</p><p>“She’s like a goddamned cat! Seriously, boss. Careful when she wakes up, don’t get close to her. You’ll regret it.”</p><p>Toomes rolled his eyes at the dramatics.</p><p>A quiet, “I’m <em> serious</em>,” reached his ears as he lifted himself into the van.</p><p>He couldn’t be too hard on them. They’ve done a lot of things over the years, but kidnapping wasn’t one of them. Before this there hadn’t been a need.</p><p>Toomes thought he should feel more at ease. Things were going well despite the last minute wrench that had been thrown in their plans. He’d adapted, acted quickly, and he was sure it was all going to pay off.</p><p>In a way Spider-Man’s involvement might even prove to be an advantage. Toomes held no illusions that the authorities and Stark weren’t going to begin hunting them the second they realize what happened. Peter, Spider-Man, was mixed up with Stark. The boy could prove to be a useful hostage, a diversion. And if nothing else there was no shortage of people who would love to get their hands on someone as enhanced as Spider-Man.</p><p>Plus, now the little brat would be off the streets. When they actually started selling tonight’s haul it would be one less thing to worry about.</p><p>He’d get some use out of this one way or another.</p><p>They were about to get a fortune worth of merchandise to tinker with and sell. It was made all the sweeter with the knowledge that it was Stark they were stealing from. Being able to stick it to him, even in this little way, was vindicating.</p><p>Instead of pleased Toomes felt irked, but not at his men. There was a prickly ball of nerves and agitation making a home in his gut that he just couldn’t push down.</p><p>The first thing he noticed getting into the van was a first aid box that was thrown aside. It had seen some unexpected use tonight and Toomes made a mental note to get someone to replenish it’s supplies.</p><p>A glint turned out to be glasses, May’s he concluded. Surprisingly unbroken, they were in a small crevice between the van’s floor and side. Absentmindedly Toomes picked them up, tucking them into one of the many pockets of his jacket as he turned his attention towards the unconscious woman.</p><p>They would have to clean out the van, Toomes thought as he tried to step around the mess. There was too much blood. He didn’t have a sensitive stomach but it was unhygienic.</p><p>Yes, definitely a deep clean, preferably with bleach.</p><p>He got down on one knee to examine his prisoner, grimacing when he felt his jeans become wet. He didn’t move for a moment, watching to make sure she was actually alive. Satisfied with the rise and fall of her breathing Toomes moved on in his examination.</p><p>May was completely out cold, sprawled onto the floor of the van with the uncoordinated loose deadweight unique to someone who was unconscious instead of asleep. A pile of human that laid where they had fallen.</p><p>With the way her hair covered her face so completely Toomes would almost think she was face down, but upon closer examination her head was actually turned to her left.</p><p>May’s arms were forced behind her back, wrists tied together with a metal chain which was bolted onto the floor of the van. </p><p>Blood, a concerning amount of it. </p><p>It had seeped into the fabric of her clothes, her hair was sticky with it.</p><p>At the back of her skull her scalp had been partially split from the force of the blow to the head, which accounted for most of the blood. But a lot of it may as well have come from his own guys instead of May.</p><p>His men had haphazardly bandaged the injury in an attempt to stem the bleeding. The gauze that they had pressed against the split skin and wrapped around her head to keep it there was completely soaked. Red was still sluggishly seeping into her hair, but the gauze had definitely stemmed the flow. Moving it would probably start it bleeding furiously, head wounds were always messy.</p><p>Her jacket was a dark navy, but a quick touch confirmed his suspicions that blood had gotten onto that too.</p><p>He brushed long brown hair to the side, careful so as to not start the head wound bleeding again, exposing her face.</p><p>Toomes frowned at what he saw. May was a beautiful woman, but he would be hard pressed to see that with the state she was in.</p><p>He was surprised to see that she was gagged, and it was done well. Clearly his men had indulged their vindictive streak, or they had actually been worried she would bite again when she woke up. Now that he looked he could see the remnants of blood around her mouth and chin. Her own or Michael’s?</p><p>He considered the gag for another second, deciding that it didn’t matter. Her nose seemed to be more or less fine, as long as she wasn’t in danger of suffocating he didn’t need to care.</p><p>The left side of her face was swelling, the skin darkening into a deep bruise with what promised to be a truly impressive shiner. His eyes narrowed, he couldn’t say for certain that her cheekbone hadn’t been broken. </p><p>He examined her wrists next, some of the skin was torn and raw from where she had fought against her restraints. To cause so much damage in so little time meant that she must have really used all her strength with no regard to the pain. A consequence of panic, most likely. </p><p>Because of her jacket he couldn’t see the skin of her arms, but he was willing to bet they hadn’t escaped the abuse. If her wrists were any indication she probably pulled a muscle or two in her shoulders. If she had fought as hard as his guys kept saying she did her body was probably sporting a number of bruises.</p><p>He dug around in his jacket pockets, pushing aside his various tools until he found what he was looking for. Taking out his phone Toomes made sure her face was visible, as was the blood, as he took the pictures he needed.</p><p>After he finished he stood up, taking in the image of an unconscious May.</p><p>Toomes felt uneasy and he was looking at half of the reason why. </p><p>He had to figure out what to do about the Parkers.</p><p>“Boss, we think the kid is going to be here soon.”</p><p>Toomes nodded, with one last look at May he stood up and got off of the van.</p><p>“Alright, you guys know what to do.” He looked down, frowning at the red shoe print he left on the cement. A spot over his right knee was damp and dark red, he tsked.</p><p>Toomes checked the radio one more time and brought out his phone, making sure he had the pictures. Just in case the kid needed some photographic proof.</p><p>“Taking care of the brat shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes. Then we can finally get to tonight’s main event.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I seem to like giving Toomes the last word so far lol</p><p>Yeah, May hasn’t really made an appearance yet since she’s unconscious here. She's coming, I swear. Next chapter.<br/>As for Peter: I feel anyone would be sensitive to the suggestion of the person you love most being killed because of you. Especially after losing Ben in such a violent way, he’d be especially sensitive to the possibility of losing the only parent he has left. But I am curious as to anyone’s thoughts on this, if you feel Peter’s reaction to be appropriate or if it’s too much?</p><p>I have a tumblr! https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Is This How It Ends?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>May Parker wakes up. It's both painful and terrifying.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m sure people have noticed that the chapter titles are lyrics. The first 2 were “Blame” by Bastille. This one is from “Glass Heart” Tommee Profitt.  I have a playlist</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> |Post Stark-Jet Heist| </span>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Waking up, the first thing May did was cough. Inhaling sharply through her nose, choking. She gagged on something in her mouth that she couldn’t spit out, realizing after trying to hack it up that it was stuck there. Whatever she was laying on smelled so strongly of dust that May almost sneezes, and her mouth is flooded with the copper-penny taste of blood.</p><p>May had to blink a few times to make sure she’d opened her eyes at all, the darkness behind her lids indistinguishable from the blackness.</p><p>The back of her head was burning agony, the unbearable ache radiating to encompass her entire skull, neck, and even down to her shoulders. May wonders if part of her skull had been blown off, because it sure felt like it. </p><p>She groaned. Shifting and realizing that she was laying on...concrete? Whatever it was was very hard and pressing against her cheek that was also radiating pain. A bruise? A very very bad bruise. Bruises. Plural.</p><p><em> Ouch. What hit me? </em> Whatever it was had hit her hard.</p><p>At first she thinks <em>car accident</em>. Then awareness continued to trickle through heavy black unconsciousness.</p><p>May’s shoulders and the muscles of her arms were strained. She couldn’t get a full breath. As she became more aware May realized she was laying in a weird position, sort of on her side, knees uncomfortably bent and her <em> arms-- </em></p><p>It came to her in snapshots of escalating horror as she regained full consciousness.</p><p>The suffocating thing in her mouth was a gag, and the darkness was a blindfold. The burning in her shoulders and arms was because the limbs were awkwardly tied behind her back, somehow tied to her also restrained ankles. The gag muffled the cry of fear as May put it all together. Restrained. Kidnapped?<em> Injured. </em></p><p>Pure terror stabbed into her, for a few moments she couldn’t even think, paralyzed except for her pounding heart and too quick, too short breaths.</p><p>Trying to breathe was hard. It was really, really hard. May didn’t think it should be so difficult. Even thinking hurt.</p><p>Panic, pain, and confusion fought for her attention. Every second a new injury entered her awareness, her sluggish mind already realizing it was a situation that called for alarm even though she didn’t have the cognitive ability to articulate it yet. Sensation and general flash of emotional reactions.</p><p>Then all at once, she could think. Could wonder and conjure up new threats, one right after another, as she realized just how vulnerable and helpless she was.</p><p>Was she alone? Was someone here? She tries to speak, then stops when only muffled sounds leave her mouth. She stills, holding her breath and straining her ears. May couldn’t even keep still, trembling with terror, dread creeping up and around her lungs. Someone could be watching her and May would have absolutely no idea.</p><p>The idea is strangely terrifying, almost violating in that she would be ignorant to a potential silent watcher while she was so helpless. May shudders, having to cough when she chokes on the gag again. She doesn’t move, trying to hear anything past the blood rushing in her ears. Past the aching in her head that hurts so badly it’s almost a sound in itself.</p><p>May spends a few more moments scaring herself to death when she comes to the conclusion that there’s probably no one else there. Probably.</p><p>And even if there was, May wasn’t going to stay laying on the floor. Her coughing would have given away that she was conscious, anyways.</p><p>May shifts again, hearing the sound of light metallic clinking as she does so. She tugs at her arms, hissing at the discomfort. Gingerly, May maneuvers herself so she’s not laying on the floor, sitting on her knees instead. She’s shaking with both exertion and adrenaline. With apprehension. Her entire body feels weak.</p><p>Her joints felt creaky, and the headrush from the simple act of sitting up making her lightheaded and woozy. Moving her head in an attempt to get her hair out of her face causes a surprisingly sharp stab of pain through her temples, May decides not to do it again.</p><p>
  <em> What happened? </em>
</p><p>With that question comes a dozen others, none with answers. She has no idea what happened to her, she realizes. No idea at all where she is or what she had been doing. The last thing May remembered was…work? Her memory abruptly cuts off from there. She isn’t sure that memory was from today, or even this week. May doesn’t know what day it is. She could tell that time was missing, a big blank where information should be. A word on the tip of her tongue that was just out of reach.</p><p>All of that alone would have been scary, had she woken up in a hospital it might have even been her largest concern.</p><p>Instead it was hardly a footnote because <em> May can’t remember where Peter is. </em></p><p>Every iota of panic is diverted to that single thought. <em> She couldn’t remember. May couldn’t remember where Peter was. She couldn’t remember! </em></p><p>She searches her memory, mentally tearing through what is just <em> blank-nothing-blank </em>, desperately trying to find the answer to where Peter could be. But there was absolutely nothing there, no flash of memory, not even a general feeling that told her if she had seen him recently or not.</p><p>
  <em> Come on, May! Think! Fucking stupid memory loss, come on! The information has to be somewhere! </em>
</p><p>There had to be something. It had to be <em> somewhere </em> in her brain. But no matter how hard she tries there’s absolutely nothing there after that last memory of work. All May accomplishes is making her headache about three times as worse than it already was.</p><p>There’s nothing.</p><p><em> Okay</em>, May thinks trying to keep the hysteria at bay. <em> Okay, think</em>.</p><p><em> Clothes</em>, she realizes. What kind of clothes is she wearing? May closes her eyes, which makes no difference except that it felt like it might help, trying to focus on her body. Pushing aside the blaring klaxon alarms of pain from her injuries is harder than May thought it would be, her head being the worst offender.</p><p>But in focusing on her body and not the pain she realizes that the back of her neck and back is sticky with what May suspects to be blood. A lot of it. And there’s something tight around her head that wasn’t the blindfold or the gag. It pressed right over the area at the back of her skull that hurt the worst.<em> A bandage? What the hell? </em></p><p>She notes the unusually strong taste of blood in her mouth again and then dismisses it. She was nauseous, but her stomach felt empty. How long had it been since she’d eaten or had water? How long was she unconscious for? She dismissed that too, turning her focus back on...On...Okay. Peter. She was trying to remember where Peter is but she couldn’t so--Right. <em> Clothes. </em></p><p>She was wearing all her clothes, which was an extremely good sign. May couldn’t help the shuddering breath of relief that left her at the thought.</p><p>
  <em> What am I wearing? Come on, May. </em>
</p><p>Jeans. She’s wearing jeans. She can feel her shoes with her fingers with the way she’s sitting. They felt like her tennis shoes. She wouldn’t wear those to work. May didn’t know what shirt she was wearing. But she could feel where her pendant, hanging from it’s long chain, moved under her shirt and against her skin. Now that she’s paying attention they’d bunched up the sleeves of whatever she was wearing, pushing the sleeves up past her elbows so they could tie her up with duct tape. So it wasn’t tight fitting, the sleeves were loose, a sweater? Overall, clothes that May doesn’t think she’d wear at work. Probably. </p><p>It didn’t help. It only meant that her last memory was definitely wrong and that she might have been at home when whatever it was had happened.</p><p>Which meant Peter might have been there too. </p><p>May’s eyes shot open, she took a deep breath trying not to panic at the thought. </p><p>She’s gagged and it feels like she’s choking. The cloth sitting uncomfortably deep into her mouth, filling it and pressing against her tongue. It’s like she’s on the edge of choking and gagging, with nearly every breath May has to stop herself from coughing.</p><p>May couldn’t even see a single sliver of light no matter which angle she moved her aching head, whether it was because she was blindfolded that well or because the room she was in was dark she couldn’t say.</p><p>All together it gives her a pretty clear picture of her situation.</p><p>May doesn’t like the picture. She’s scared and hurting, confused. And the frustration from her bound hands quickly morphs into a desperate anger that threatens to tip back into senseless terror.</p><p>She turned her attention towards her bound arms, hoping that with more consideration she’d find they weren’t as hopelessly restrained as she assumed. The hope was put to rest very soon after. </p><p>Like everything else, her arms hurt, duct tape digging deeper into her skin each time she tried to pull them apart. It was wrapped around her forearms, starting right above where the chains seemed to tie around her wrists up until almost her elbows, forcing her arms into a distinctly uncomfortable position that strained her muscles. Even if she wasn’t scared out of her mind May knows she’d still be shaking from the strain. Her elbows were almost touching, and May knew she wasn’t flexible enough to do that. It was painful and she doesn’t like thinking about how they would have had to maneuver her body to do it.</p><p>May tugs at her hands again, knowing it was futile but needing to try anyways.</p><p>Unable to use her mouth, chest strained from her tied up position, it felt like she could neither get enough air or expand her ribcage enough to breathe properly.</p><p>May took a moment to feel miserable and trapped, fighting down the urge to give into the part of her that wanted to thrash and getoutgetout<em>getout </em>. Then she moved on. Turning her torso she realized that something-a chain?- was wrapped around her ankles and that was what connected to the restraints on her wrists. Stopping her from being able to unbend her legs. May experimented with the new discovery. Tugging herself forward she realizes that the chain is attached to something. Her arms getting pulled backwards painfully if she tried to lean too forward.</p><p>She tried again with more force, and again. May breathed in sharply through her nose, then out. Yelping into the gag. She had to take a few moments to cough, suppressing her body’s natural instinct to choke against the thing in her mouth. Even the slight movement forward of her head when she coughed was enough to drive knives of pain into her brain.</p><p>A blaze of angry indignity shines bright and fierce at the realization that she’s been tied to something like a damn <em> dog </em>. May spends a few moments stewing in her offense, breathing out sharply through her nose.</p><p>What had she been doing again? <em> Shit. </em> At the realization that she’d lost her train of thought May remembers her head. How hard had she been hit? <em> Not a good sign, </em> May thought grimly. It definitely <em> felt </em>injured enough to cause problems.</p><p>Chains. Tied up. Right. Checking the restraints.</p><p>May clenches her jaw, which reminds her again of the suffocating gag in her mouth when her teeth bite down on cloth. Carefully, awkwardly, she shuffles and leans backwards, trying to figure out what she’s attached to without losing her balance and falling back.</p><p>If she fell backwards and hit her head May is very very certain that she’d knock herself out and possibly fall into a coma.</p><p>It is a chain, May confirms with her fingers. It’s wrapped around her wrists and connected to the chain around ankles. It seemed like her ankles had been spared the duct tape, but clearly whoever had done this really didn’t want her to get out. She followed the chain with her hands, tendons and muscles in her wrists straining even with the small movements. It was some sort of metal thing on the floor that May wouldn’t know the name of even if she could see it and didn’t have what was most likely a concussion.</p><p>Tugging at it proved both painful and useless. It was solid, not something she could break.</p><p>Even if she got out of the chains and wasn’t tied down May wouldn’t be going anywhere, she concluded, panic creeping up her throat. There was no way she could get her arms in front of her with the way they were bound. The room she was in was probably locked, even if she got out of the chains and got her feet under her May wouldn’t be lucky enough to be able to just walk out. As it was she couldn’t get out of the chains anyways.</p><p>May then tried turning her head, into her shoulder, hoping that maybe she could get the blindfold or the gag off. Instead she jerks from the spike of pain the action illicits. The left side of her face, now that she's paying attention, is noticeably swollen. It ached just like the rest of her, but having noticed it May realizes how much more it hurt than the right side of her face. She huffs then tries again, this time using her right shoulder.</p><p>She keeps trying for a few minutes, managing to accomplish nothing except squirming awkwardly and hurting her already very sore neck. May gives up, she wasn't going to get them off, not like that. She then feels the chain around her ankles, wondering if she took off her shoes if she could get out of them. The answer to that question seemed to be "no".</p><p>Goddamn, her head hurt.</p><p>May was scared. She was terrified and couldn’t breathe. She wants to cry, actually. Whether that’s from pain or panic she doesn’t know. </p><p>She couldn’t do anything because she was trapped. Getting killed quickly was probably the best thing she could hope for. May didn’t want to die like this, she didn’t want to die right now at all. Her head hurt so badly she couldn’t think straight and she couldn’t see or breathe properly.</p><p>She couldn’t even scream, her throat is in knots and May thinks she might throw up. Her heart is pounding so loud and so fast May wonders if she’ll get a heart attack before she actually gets killed, or maybe she’ll suffocate to death. Maybe it would be a mercy.</p><p>With nothing else to distract her from the awful situation and from the agonizing pain, May finally allowed the tears that had been building in her eyes to fall. Hitching, choking breaths that she fought to keep even leaving her mouth in muffled tiny noises of fear. </p><p>May prays Peter wasn’t anywhere near her when whatever it was that led her here happened.</p><p>God. Peter. <em> Peter- </em></p><p>She was going to be found dead in a ditch somewhere and Peter was going to be alone.</p><p>She hoped so, anyways. Because the alternative was much worse.</p><p>The alternative was that Peter was here with her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>May doesn’t know how long she stays like that. She had quickly tired herself out crying and had just been sitting on her knees in a daze. May had tried to find the most comfortable position, which was impossible. Trying to not sink under the waves of pain from her headache, or the panic that had pushed her to the edge of senseless hysteria, May focused on opening and closing her hands behind her back.</p><p>Her fingers were just about the only thing she could move freely, so she did.</p><p>Straining her ears for any sort of change or clue and getting nothing for it. The only thing she could smell was dust. So May focused on her hands and tried to convince herself not to panic as she continued to search the empty space of memory for any information about what happened or where Peter was. She got nothing for that too.</p><p>She had just been wondering if she should try to lay down again, if maybe it would hurt her arms less, when the sound of a door, thunderous in the previous quiet, scares the hell out of her.</p><p>May jumps, nearly falling on her face.</p><p>She holds her breath, trembling as step-by-step someone comes closer to her. They don’t say a word, remaining silent as they come closer. Do the steps sound heavy? They didn’t sound light. She couldn’t tell what kind of shoe it was, not on concrete. She couldn’t tell anything, the blood rushing her ears seeming to deafen her.</p><p><em> One person, </em> she calmed herself with. <em> You know it’s one person</em>. As if that made it any better.</p><p>May didn’t dare move, keeping her muscles stiff and staying in her upright position, not making a sound. A statue with a pulse.</p><p>The steps get closer, May bites down on the gag. Her heart is pounding in her chest with the force of a jackhammer.</p><p>Closer. Right in front of her. May can hear the rustle of their clothes now, if she leaned forward she thinks she’d be able to touch their shin with her forehead.</p><p>Something touches her head. </p><p>May recoils violently to the side with a muffled yelp, away from the sensation of fingertips in her hair. </p><p>She nearly falls and is saved from meeting concrete by large warm hands grabbing her by the shoulders. She flinches at the feeling, a whimper muffled by the gag escaping her.</p><p><em> Someone </em> is touching her. She can’t see. Someone is <em> touching </em> her. She can’t scream, she can’t see. <em> Someone is touching her and she’s tied up and she can’t move and someone is TOUCHING HER-- </em></p><p>As soon as she’s up right the hands vanish. </p><p>The relief that May feels, the sudden shift from hysterical terror back to normal panic, is so jarring that she thinks she might faint. She might have sobbed with relief if she could actually get the breath to do so. As much as she is able considering her gagged mouth and her sniffling nose from tears, May is panting, out of breath with relief.</p><p>The person speaks, startling her and injecting terror right back into her veins.</p><p>“Are you going to let me see your head?” an agitated voice asks in what is nearly a growl. A man.</p><p>Did that voice seem familiar? Or was she just scared out of her mind and concussed?</p><p>May forces herself to stay still, head bent forward so that if she had been able to see she’d be staring at the floor. May can’t stop shaking, behind the blindfold she squeezes her eyes shut.</p><p>She waits, bracing herself.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing happens.</p><p> </p><p>May blinks.</p><p><em> It was a question</em>, the little piece of her brain that wasn’t drowning in fear, a piece May didn’t realize until that second was even functioning, realized. <em> He was asking. </em></p><p>Wait. Her head. She had felt something wrapped around her head, hadn’t she? Something that could be a bandage. Was he trying to check her injury? The little piece of rational brain is waving a flag, pointing at that information. Important! That’s important, it means something. </p><p>There are tears escaping her eyes, absorbed by the blindfold. There’s someone here, she can’t see and she’s chained up and hurt. The skin of her wrists burns, friction from the chains sending sparking sharp pain signals with every tiny shift.</p><p>Important! Her brain says again. Focus! </p><p>May breathes through her nose, shuddering and trying to calm down enough to think. To wade through panic-pain-panic. Her nose is clogged from her earlier crying, it makes breathing difficult, increasing the feeling of suffocation. She’s still shaking like a leaf, there’s cold sweat on her skin, May feels simultaneously feverish and chilled.</p><p>Focus. Someone, a man, walked in. May mentally walks through the last few moments. Jerking away, almost falling, <em> handstouchingher </em>--</p><p>Stopping her from falling, then they were gone. Then the voice. She’d been too scared to even consciously process the words but that little rational part had caught it. </p><p>
  <em> “Are you going to let me check your head?” </em>
</p><p>The question, May realizes. The room is dead silent, her own breathing, sniffles really, loud in her ears. Her heart pounding a mile a minute, bruising the inside of her ribs. Her head hurts. She doesn’t know where she is, doesn’t know where Peter is.</p><p>
  <em> It was a question. </em>
  <em>He was asking for my permission.</em>
</p><p>May isn’t sure if she’s been scared stupid or if a bit of cunning has surfaced from the ocean of panic but she makes a snap decision.</p><p>She decides to test it.</p><p>So she stays still, not moving an inch, counting the seconds by the pounding beats of her heart. By May’s estimate about a minute passes. Nothing happens. She waits about fifteen seconds more.</p><p>Nothing happens.</p><p>He doesn’t move, doesn’t leave, doesn’t speak. The only sounds she’d been able to ascertain was a shifting of weight.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck. </em>
</p><p>May puzzles over this, the information feeling like some sort of victory but not sure what to do with it. Seconds tick-tick-ticking by as she mentally flounders, every second another one lost.</p><p><em> Go along with it, </em> some part of her suggests. It’s the only idea she has, so she does.</p><p>May gives a short nod.</p><p>She still gives a slight jerk of surprise at the feeling of fingers on her head, but she doesn’t flail or try to get away, forcing herself to stay quiet and still.</p><p>Fingers prod at the back of her head, checking her injury. Despite having suspected that to be his goal May is taken aback, confused. She can’t help the grunt that leaves her when he gets too close to where she assumes she’d been hit, sharp renewed pain stabbing into her head to join the constant ache. May instinctively ducks to get away from the thing poking at her, her arms moving in what would have been a flinch but instead tape just digs into her skin.</p><p>Instead of continuing and causing more pain like May had been dreading the man stops, she hears him take a step back, apparently satisfied with his inspection.</p><p>Never in her life has May ever been so terrified, every molecule of her is shaking with fear. Yet she latches onto this new development desperately, she’s confused as hell and doesn’t know what’s going on but it’s something.</p><p><em> I’m not dead yet, </em> May tells herself fiercely. The thought is immediately followed with a spike of aching agony from her head before subsiding back to a dull roar. <em> Not dead, </em> she thinks with a wince, <em> just concussed and confused. But not dead. </em></p><p>“I’m taking the gag off,” he warns gruffly. Then, in case May forgot how utterly terrifying her current situation is, he adds, “don’t bother screaming, no one can hear you.”</p><p>May holds still, wriggling discomfort running up and down her back as hands untangle the knot holding the gag in place. It takes a while, she can feel him fiddling with the knot, her neck strains from leaning forward. May is wondering how tight the knot is, when it finally comes off.</p><p>When it leaves her mouth it feels like when the dentist removes gauze when they’re finished with a filling, but only a dozen times worse. Saliva trailing after the thing and on her chin as it’s taken away.</p><p>May breathes in quick and deep, gulping in air like she’d just surfaced from deep water, then proceeds to fall into a coughing fit. She almost worries she’s going to throw up. There’s remnants of the gag in her mouth, some deep in her throat triggering her gag reflex. She bends forward, hacking and spitting, like a cat coughing up a hairball, trying to get them out. Each cough painfully rattles her brain, a hard thumb on a deep bruise.</p><p>Part of her is humiliated by the display. May wonders why that part is laying around with time to be humiliated when it should be busy being terrified or trying to get air into her lungs.</p><p>Her mouth was still awash with the taste of blood, only making the coughing worse, she spits a few times in an attempt to get rid of it. A quick swipe of her tongue confirms that she has all her teeth. Licking her lips May discovers a bad split lip on the left. She unsuccessfully tries to wipe away the saliva on her face by ducking her chin into her sweater.</p><p>“They went overboard with the gag,” the man notes, startling her. She can’t read his tone at all.</p><p>Again May can’t help but think the voice sounds familiar. </p><p>
  <em> Wait. “They”? </em>
</p><p>A creeping dread chills her blood. More than one. There was more than one person involved in this. Not good. Very bad, actually.</p><p>There’s still a phantom sensation of a gag in her mouth but May can breath without choking.</p><p>She can talk.</p><p>But May isn’t sure what to say. She knows that, despite what the man told her about screaming, she’d very much like to scream. Even if it wouldn’t bring help. Just out of general terror, she thinks it might make her feel better.</p><p>May decides against it, wondering where that clever little part of her brain that decided to test the question/permission theory out had run off to.</p><p>May takes a few more heaving breaths, then straightens out from her hunched over position. She doesn’t know where he is so she just directs her words straight ahead.</p><p>“Wha--” May’s voice is a dying wheeze that runs out before she finishes the word. She coughs. “Wh-What d’you want?”</p><p>The words were harder to get out than she thought they should be, her mouth not shaping the words as sharply as she’d like. Even taking in the chatter of her teeth from her trembling, because she hasn’t stopped shaking throughout the entire ordeal, terror after terror renewing it, May didn’t think she should sound like that.</p><p>She picked up on that detail for a reason...</p><p>Right. Her head. No, maybe she was imagining it. She was speaking fine. Right? <em>Dammit</em>, May thought, clenching her jaw then immediately opening it when it hurt. <em>I can’t tell.</em> <em>Am I slurring?</em></p><p>“What do you want?” she repeats, a small cough interrupting the last word. May tries to pay attention to how the words leave her mouth. Her tongue felt clumsy, but that might have been from the gag that had been in her mouth for who-knows-how-long.</p><p>A scuffing sound, a shoe, pulls her out of her thoughts. <em> Pay attention to him! </em> May scolds herself harshly. She could worry about her head later. If she even had a later.</p><p>May could think of a few things someone would want from her that could lead to her current predicament, she didn’t like any of them.</p><p>She wanted to ask about Peter, but there was a chance this had nothing to do with him and if that was the case May wasn’t going to even dare bring his name into it.</p><p>May just wished she<em> remembered where he was. </em></p><p>“Blindfold,” he said instead of answering her question. May wasn’t in a position to object, and she wasn't about to argue with being able to see again.</p><p>Again May sat still, fighting against the instinct to squirm away from the uncomfortable feeling of having someone unknown at your back and too close. Like an extreme version of the feeling you get from having your back facing the elevator doors. She hissed when he got too close to the worst part of her head.</p><p>May winced as the blindfold was pulled away, the cloth sticking to some cut on her face. He took a few steps back as soon as the blindfold was off. May squeezed her eyes shut, holding back a groan. She immediately stopped squeezing, instead just keeping her eyes closed, when an ache flared to life with the movement. Her left eye. It was basically swollen shut and it hurt.</p><p>Light. Light did not help her headache. Even with her eyes closed it was too bright. May kept them closed for a few moments, then she forced her eyes, eye, to open so they could adjust, eyes watering just from the pain. Somehow her headache extended there too. A pounding ache deep in her eyeballs while the light burned through her retinas. She closed her eyes again, needing to catch her breath, bracing herself before opening them again. Tears, from fear but also from the bright light, dripped from her right eye.</p><p>Not that bright, May amended, blinking at the ground. It was lit, but slightly muted.</p><p>About six feet in front of her were a pair of work boots and jeans, he was standing far enough that he wasn’t blurry.</p><p>May kept her head down, wanting to have some sort of control before seeing her captor in full.</p><p>Below her was concrete, as she’d suspected. Some sort of industrial warehouse type place, she guessed. May blinked again, turning her head slightly. From her left she couldn’t see anything but a blurry sliver of light.</p><p>Behind her back May clenched and unclenched her bound hands.</p><p>A strange calm had washed over her. Terror was right below the surface tension calm, it was delicate but real. The eye of the storm. May breathed in through her nose and out her mouth, adrenaline surging through her.</p><p>May looked up.</p><p>The calm was completely obliterated and replaced with utter bafflement. An ear splitting record-scratch of incredulity. For a millisecond she was too confused to be afraid as she takes in the man who is looking down at her.</p><p>“You’re a good woman, May. I’m sorry it came to this.”</p><p>May’s brain is still short circuiting when the name bursts from her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Adrian!?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>mayparker.exe has stopped working<br/>She’s had a long day. That she can’t even remember.<br/>A relative of mine is actually named “Adrian” which means that to me it is the least threatening/scary name in the world and I can almost not take Vulture seriously.<br/>My (online) semester has officially begun, but I'm going to try very hard to keep updating this at least once a week.<br/>Anyone have any theories they'd like to share? How did you like May's (concussed) pov?<br/>What are you looking forward to seeing/finding out the most in this story so far?</p><p>Yell at me on tumblr if you'd like https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Sins of Our Young</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Toomes officially introduces himself to May as Vulture.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from “The Catalyst” Linkin Park ( “sins of YOUR young” would be more accurate, aka Toomes sorta lets May know what’s up. Sorta.) These songs aren't random, just fyi :)<br/>Toomes is pulling out his “listen it might be my fault that you’re beat to hell and chained up but is it really?” card.  Forgive me for the lack of Peter.</p><p>Timeline (so far)<br/>Homecoming Dance/Jet Heist/Kidnappings: Friday Night<br/>May Waking Up: Saturday (at undetermined time)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re a good woman, May. I’m sorry it came to this.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Adrian!?” </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He didn’t sound sorry, eyes flinty and scrutinizing as he watched her. </p><p>May was still trying to process who was in front of her. That she had woken up blindfolded, gagged, and bound who-the-hell-knows-where and now that she can see it’s <em> Adrian Toomes </em>of all people in front of her. For the hundredth time May worried about how hard she’d hit her head.</p><p>May didn’t say anything else, too busy trying to accept this new information to even pick her jaw up off the floor, when he speaks. </p><p>“Your boy got involved in something he shouldn’t have,” he said, tilting his head.</p><p>At the mention of Peter May snapped out of her shock, a renewed surge of adrenaline burning through her. Everything else is suddenly a microscopic concern.</p><p>For a second she forgets that she’s chained up. Forgets about her head and about her eye. Forgets everything. A blinding lightning strike of rage-fear-PETER instinct completely taking over.</p><p>“<em>WHERE'S PETER!? </em> ” her voice is raw, half giving out on her as she tries to yell but she doesn’t care. “What do you mean--Is he here!? <em> What the hell did you do!? </em>” she snarls, lurching forward.</p><p>Her shoulders scream at her, chains tightening around her wrists and keeping her from going any further. She feels none of it.</p><p>“It’s not about what I did, it’s about what he did,” Toomes replied with a severe frown. He’s tense but composed. Too calm. Way too fucking calm to have chained her up and to be talking about <em> Peter </em>--“Just so you know, I gave him a chance. He didn’t take it.”</p><p>“Where is he!?” May’s voice breaks as she yells over his last sentence, not caring about what he had to say. </p><p>
  <em> What if he’s dead.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What if he’s dead, what if he’s dead, whatifhe’sdead--!? </em>
</p><p><em> No, he fucking kidnapped you why would he keep you alive and not Peter--But what if- </em> -God, May couldn’t fucking <em> think</em>. Every other thought interrupted with the paralyzing static of <em> WHATIFPETERISDEAD and she can’t think-May can’t think--! </em></p><p>“Where is he!? I’ll fucking strangle you I swear--!” May is straining forward, the chain clinking as it’s pulled taught, a rabid dog straining against it’s chain. “Where is he!?” She repeats her question again and again, biting out the words, not even hearing herself anymore or feeling the pull of her shoulders. “Where--!?”</p><p>Toomes had to yell over her to be heard.</p><p><em> “ </em> He’s fine! <em> Shut the hell up!” </em></p><p>May barely manages to stop herself from continuing to curse him out and demand he let Peter go. He had Peter. </p><p>He. Had. <em> Peter. </em></p><p>“He’s close by,” he continued, annoyed. “Don’t worry about the brat right now. He doesn’t have so much as a paper cut, and if he doesn’t cause trouble it’ll stay that way.”</p><p><em> He IS here, </em> May realized, anxiety ratcheting up to an eleven. <em> Peter was here, he was tied up-- </em></p><p>Toomes whistled lowly, May’s eyes snapping up from the ground towards his face. She glared hatefully at him, panic building building <em> building </em> in her chest, the ache in her head becoming more painful as the pressure increased.</p><p>“I didn’t think you could go any paler. You lost some blood, May. You should be careful.” </p><p> May opened her mouth, about to spit out the kind of insults that would make a sailor blush, when sense grabbed the words and stuffed them back down her throat.</p><p>
  <em> Don’t antagonize him! </em>
</p><p>He gave a slight shake of his head. “I told my guys not to be so rough with you, but you didn’t give them a choice.” He tsks, rolling his shoulders. “I’m serious about you being careful,” the warning sounds like a threat. “I’m told this isn’t the first time you woke up, but they said you didn’t really move much before you conked out again. First time I’ve talked to you, so don’t worry about repeating yourself or anything.”</p><p>The fact that May doesn’t remember that should be frightening but it isn’t. She doesn’t care. Some part of her objectively realizes that it’s scary to not remember so much, but she’s also too busy fighting the urge to scream curses at him. Because<em> he had Peter-- </em></p><p>“That hit to the head, plus the blood loss, and whatever the hell else. I wasn’t sure you were going to wake up.” He looked at her, specifically at the left side of her face, tilting his head and frowning. “I can’t even check your pupils since your eye is fucked.”</p><p>“What the hell is going on, Adrian?” she says instead of the thousands of much nastier things on the tip of her tongue. Internally, she’s beating down her panic and rage with a bat to keep from hyperventilating. She can’t lose her head, not now. She had to think, had to figure out where Peter was and what was going on. Even though thinking was very hard at the moment.</p><p>“I told you, Peter got involved in something he shouldn’t have.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking down at her. “But I think what you’re asking is what am<em> I </em>doing here.”</p><p>She nodded, knives of pain driving into her from the muscles in her neck.</p><p>“He got involved in my business,” Toomes explained simply.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” May ground out, “you said you worked in--” Of course, this moment is when her memory chooses to fail her. She knew what he worked in! They talked about it. Dammit what was it!? “...Construction stuff,” she finishes through grit teeth.</p><p>He didn’t notice, or maybe didn’t care, about her flub.</p><p>“I do. I did. Until the government, until <em> Damage Control</em>, almost put me and my family out into the street.” He spat the name of the agency with disgust, as if the words were venom he couldn’t stand to hold in his mouth.</p><p>He proceeded to tell her about the Chitauri clean-up, how Damage Control had pulled the rug out from under him mercilessly, and how it led to a thriving business of alien weapon dealing.</p><p>May lived in a crazy world, she lived in New York city and had seen the crazy up close, she remembered the invasion all too well. It shouldn’t seem so far-fetched but somehow it did. </p><p>It wasn’t even the fact that there was someone combining alien technology with their own to create weapons to sell on the black market that May was having difficulty accepting, it was the <em> who </em> that she couldn’t wrap her head around.</p><p>What are the odds that it would be someone she knew? Someone that she hadn’t quite been<em> friends </em> with but they had definitely been friend<em>ly</em>. She’d met his wife--who’s name she couldn’t recall at the moment--a few times too. Did she know about this?</p><p>May and the man in front of her were almost friends. Friendly acquaintances.</p><p>Her impression of him had been of a gruff, down-to-earth working man who adored his family. How could May have been so wrong? He'd kidnapped a kid, <em>her</em> kid. May was still hoping that this was all a fucked up nightmare, or even that she was still knocked out and Peter wasn't here at all.</p><p>As much as she hated to admit it, she could understand how he was driven to that point. Could understand it easily, in fact. If she had been on the verge of losing her home, and firing dozens of people from jobs they needed to survive, she could understand why something like what Toomes was describing would look tempting. Especially with a family to take care of.</p><p>But that still didn’t explain why she was currently tied up with the world’s worst headache. And it definitely didn’t explain what her kid had to do with it.</p><p>“Where does Peter come in?” May demanded. “What does any of that have to do with us?”</p><p>A few beats passed, May was about to ask again when he spoke.</p><p>“Huh.” Toomes tilted his head, like he had just noticed something interesting or mildly surprising about her, May fought down the ugly sneer she wanted to shoot at him in return. “So he was telling the truth, you really don’t know.”</p><p>“Know what?” May asked sharply, already tired of whatever game he was playing.</p><p>“I thought you didn’t, because you’re you and you love that boy to pieces. You wouldn’t just let him run around like that, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.” He huffed, expression one of bitter amusement. “Guess Stark fucked you both over. Smarmy bastard, I’m not surprised.”</p><p>May was losing the little patience she had. What the fuck did any of this have to do with her or Peter or Tony Stark!?</p><p>“<em>Adrian </em>--”</p><p>“You wouldn’t believe me anyways,” he says, ignoring her. Then he paused, a new thought occurring to him. Toomes looked at her, considering. “Peter had an internship with Stark.”</p><p>He was waiting for her to respond, she realized after a beat. “Yeah?” The mantra of Peter’s name in her head was playing on loop. May desperately trying to follow the line of conversation, trying to figure out what Toomes’ game was.</p><p>“It was bullshit,” he said bluntly. “Stark was using him for Avengers stuff that he shouldn’t have.”</p><p>May’s eyes widened. <em> Avengers. </em> Her brain struggled with a connection it was trying to make, a radio with a weakened frequency. She could almost feel the gaps from the neurons that must have gotten knocked out of her head as she tried to think think <em> think. </em></p><p>
  <em> Avengers. Peter. Stark. Weapons. Adrian. Peter. </em>
</p><p>Wait--</p><p>“Are you the guy in the bird costume!?” May asked incredulously. He scowled, maybe she shouldn’t have called it a bird costume. “You--You cut the Staten Island Ferry in half,” she babbled. “You cut the the <em> Staten Island Ferry </em> in <em>half</em>--”</p><p>Adrian Toomes had cut the Staten Island Ferry in half. And he’d kidnapped her and her kid. What the fuck.</p><p>“That wasn’t me, that was stupid people getting in my way,” he interrupted. “I'm called Vulture.”</p><p>May almost wanted to laugh, a combination of how frightening and ridiculous she found the whole thing. Vulture. A grown ass man was telling her that his villain alter-ego was called <em> Vulture </em>.</p><p>
  <em> Focus, May. </em>
</p><p>“What does that have to do with Peter and Stark? What do you mean he dragged Peter into Avengers stuff? He was supposed to just...” But even as she spoke she sensed that Toomes was telling the truth, even if it was a twisted version of it. A missing piece slotted into place.</p><p>Peter had been acting so off ever since Stark had entered the picture. Secretive and flaky, always tired and <em> lying </em>to her all the time.</p><p>Even more than he already had been, which had already been a lot. But Peter hadn't seemed troubled or hurt, hadn't seemed like he needed her.</p><p>May should have pushed, she realized. Guilt grabbed her by the throat, it’s fingers dug viciously into her wounded head. She had been too lenient, too hands-off. She should have pushed and demanded the truth. May had wanted to tell Peter to quit that stupid internship but he had seemed so excited about it, when he’d lost interest in everything else in his life, the internship had made him light up. He’d shut her out and pushed her away from everything and she’d just wanted to let him have this thing that made him smile, even when her instincts had told her otherwise. She had hoped that Peter would come back to her in his own time without her pressuring him, because every time she took a step towards him he’d back away two.</p><p>May stared blankly at the floor, thoughts racing as she reframed everything from the last few months. Stared as her mistakes as a parent slapped her, hard, across the face.</p><p>She hadn’t been able to figure out a way to get Peter to let her in so May had decided to let Peter come to her. She’d given up, she thought, hating herself. May should have kept trying, should have done so many other things.</p><p>She thought that Peter was old enough to know where to draw the line and if he had needed her help he’d have asked for it. But he hadn’t. Of course not. Not with Tony Stark, Iron Man, pushing him. Peter shouldn’t have needed to ask her, May should have known. Because she should have pushed, should have been there, should have--</p><p>“Stark is a son of a bitch,” Toomes said with a nod, reading her desolate, shocked expression. “It’s not your fault, May.” He almost sounded like he was trying to reassure her, which was ridiculous since she was beat to hell and chained up because of him. </p><p>“Anyways, he got Peter involved in stuff he shouldn’t have. Then he threw him away. Threw him to the wolves when he wasn’t obedient enough.”</p><p>What had Peter said that day? </p><p>
  <em> I screwed it up. </em>
</p><p>The same day the ferry thing had happened, the same day she hadn’t been able to find Peter all day. Stark. Peter. Bird costume. Ferry cut in half.</p><p><em> No, </em> May thought, <b> <em> I</em> </b> <em> screwed up. </em></p><p>Stupid, oblivious, and making the wrong choices. It had all led to this. The day Stark showed up at their door she should have slammed it in his face. But she was being unfair, wasn’t she? It wasn’t Stark’s job to take care of Peter, it was <em> May’s </em>. Peter was her responsibility and she had failed spectacularly. It was her fault, no one else’s.</p><p>“That’s how you two ended up here.” He scoffed. “Really, it’s a miracle no one else got to the brat before I did. I can see why Stark did it though,” he gave her a look that May couldn’t read. “Your kid really is <em> something </em>. But I bet Stark didn’t tell you any of this, right?”</p><p>May stayed quiet.</p><p>Toomes nodded to himself. “He lied to you, convinced your boy to lie to you. He put Peter in danger,” his tone was angrier each word, disdain for Stark clear. “Then he threw him away, but the brat is too stubborn. He got burned and he still kept going, he kept getting in my way even without Stark to protect him. I told him not to, he didn’t listen.”</p><p>In his way. Weapons. Anger nudged it’s way to the surface from her desolation.</p><p>“He found out about your weapon dealing, you mean,” May deduced, narrowing her eyes at him. “Peter caught you.” How Peter would have done that, May has no idea. But the scowl Toomes sends her way tells her that she’s right. She still doesn’t understand Peter’s exact position in all of this, but she understands that. “Peter caught you and you kidnapped him so he wouldn’t talk?” May asked, almost challenging him to tell her she was wrong.</p><p>“Something like that,” he said after a moment, almost amused. “Peter came quietly after we gave him an incentive.”</p><p>May froze, a chill sweeping over her. Realization a pit in her stomach, heavy and terrible.</p><p>“...Me,” she breathed.</p><p>“You,” he confirmed. </p><p><em> Peter was kidnapped because of me, </em> May thought guilt pressing up into her lungs, crawling up her throat, choking. Feeling faint, like when she’d first sat up. <em> Peter </em> let <em> himself get kidnapped because of me. </em></p><p>“Don’t feel guilty, May,” he said, reading the look on her face for what it was. “It was all Peter. I gave him a chance to let sleeping dogs lie and he didn’t take it. It’s his fault you’re here, not the other way around.” He frowned, anger sparking in his eyes. “Actually if you want to blame someone, blame the Avengers.” He chuckled. “Hell, you can blame the FBI for never catching me. All these years and it’s a teenager that almost ruined it all. They don’t care about us little guys, that’s on them.”</p><p>May heard him, and part of her acknowledged the points he was making, but it was background noise. Because all that mattered was that Peter was here, he was kidnapped and in danger because of her. He should have run away, should have never let himself get caught but he did. Because of her.</p><p>“He’s fifteen,” she says hollowly, staring at the ground. “He’s--He’s barely fifteen, Adrian. He’s just a kid. He’s <em> my </em> kid. You can’t…”</p><p>“Can’t what?” Toomes asks. “You don’t know what Peter’s been up to, how much fucking <em> trouble </em> he caused me. You’re both lucky I didn’t just kill you.” It was a voice May didn’t recognize from him, dark, angry, and <em> dangerous. </em></p><p>May cringes at the suggestion, even hearing the threat against Peter enough to drive a stake of pure panic through her chest. Not Peter. <em> Not Peter. </em></p><p>She’s still looking at the floor. Thoughts racing and head pounding. Her arms hurt, her wrists hurt. Her face was throbbing. Everything hurt and it didn’t compare to the black hole of despair in her chest because Peter was in danger and there was nothing she could do.</p><p>“Makes you furious, right?” May didn’t lift her head, only peeking up at him from where she kept her head down. Drowning in guilt and worry she almost didn’t know what he was talking about. “Aren’t you pissed off at them? At the government? At Stark for lying to you about your own son?” A shadow of icy anger crossed over his expression. “If anyone had lied to me about my daughter…,” he trailed off but May heard the end of the sentence clearly. It was a sentiment most parents would share, including May. <em> I’d kill them. </em></p><p>“Yes,” May admitted honestly, the word stiff in her mouth. She looked up from the floor, meeting his eyes. “Yes, I’m pissed the hell off. But I’m not really worried about Tony fucking Stark right now, Adrian.” She shifted slightly, pointedly making the chains clink. “I’m worried about Peter. <em> Where is he? </em>”</p><p>“Close by,” he said, parroting his earlier answer. A flame of anger reigniting at the lack of information, May scowled at him.</p><p>Toomes rolled his shoulders, turning towards the door. Alarm shot through May as she realized that he was leaving.</p><p>He was leaving and she didn’t know where Peter was and didn’t know if he was actually okay. He was leaving and May was still chained up and hurt, was still a hostage. She was still trapped and her kid was too.</p><p>“Where’s Peter?” She tries again, desperate. “Let me see him,<em> please </em>.”</p><p>He ignores her.</p><p>May was completely helpless and he was just going to walk out of the room like it was nothing. <em> Okay, </em> May thought, desperation washing over her, t<em>ime to beg</em>. But as she took a breath to do just that, he spoke.</p><p>“Oh,” Toomes said, sounding so normal that it gave May whiplash. “Almost forgot.”</p><p>May tenses as he comes closer, doesn’t dare breathe as he kneels in front of her.</p><p>It’s the closest they’ve been. Like this, they’re basically face to face.</p><p>His expression is stressed and eyes hard, that doesn’t surprise her. What does surprise her is the way his eyes scan her face, gaze lingering on the blood on her chin, the forming bruises, and the swelling on her face. He doesn’t look happy, instead his lips thin into a tight frown.</p><p>He’s irritated. His frustration held in the tight clench of his jaw.</p><p>He doesn’t like this, May realizes suddenly. Toomes hadn’t wanted her here, didn’t want to have done this. Hadn’t wanted her to get so badly hurt.</p><p>He certainly doesn’t regret it, but he doesn’t like it and he takes no pleasure in it.</p><p>For May, there’s some relief to be found in the realization, that he isn’t someone who delights in being cruel or in causing others pain. He doesn’t hesitate to do it, but it’s means to an end. Toomes has lines he prefers not to cross. He will, but he doesn’t enjoy it.</p><p>She’s so caught up in this new understanding of her captor that May flinches when he moves his arm suddenly.</p><p>Toomes reaches into his jacket, her eyes snap towards the movement. May sees that the multiple pockets on the inside of his leather jacket holds items of technology both human and alien. Some hang off his belt. May catches sight of a clip of a folded knife in his jeans’ pocket. May can clearly see the gun that rests in a holster at his side. She fights down a shudder, May hates guns.</p><p>She wonders what tool, what weapon, he’s going to use on her, or if he was just going to blindfold or gag her again. May clenches her jaw, ignoring the pain that shoots up her head from the pressure, bracing herself.</p><p>What he pulls out isn’t a weapon.</p><p>May is too dumbfounded to be scared as he, carefully if not exactly gently, places them on her face. Taking care not to touch the swelling bruise around her left eye unnecessarily.</p><p>Her glasses.</p><p>Toomes had just given her back her glasses.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guilt Complex (tm) it's a Parker thing</p><p>This chapter was supposed to just be the first half of a larger chapter but the pacing bothered me. I’m thinking I might have chapters be a bit shorter just for pacing reasons. Up side to that is maybe I’ll be able to keep a more consistent update schedule. Maybe. No promises</p><p>Bug me on tumblr! https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/ Poke me until words pls, no one interacts me with lol. You never know, maybe I'll drop a clue on accident. Or I'll get a new idea. The possibilities are limitless<br/>Shout out to all 10 (if even) ppl who are reading this! And the 4 ppl who have commented! I appreciate it so, so much and wouldn't even bother with trying to update regularly if not for you guys.<br/>Opinions on Toomes so far? He’s been an interesting character to explore/build up for this fic and, as the main antagonist, we’ll be seeing him around.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Clouds Hang Like Gallows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Early Saturday the news breaks and his world breaks with it.<br/>Ned Leeds has the worst weekend of his short life.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from the song “Sirens” by Fleurie (which is basically Ned’s song in this fic)<br/>No Peter again, sorry. Tbh he’s not in the next chapter either, as of this moment anyways. (Originally May wasn’t in this chapter, so who knows) <br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Toomes left a man May didn’t recognize had entered. They’d cut off the duct tape, which was some relief even if taking it off had hurt. For about five minutes May had her hands chained to her waist and was allowed to walk, her strides shortened because of the chain kept on her ankles. The chains were all still connected, keeping her hands from going any higher than her elbows. Standing had been a challenge, not only hurt but her legs were numb from the awkward position and her sense of balance seemed to have completely abandoned her. May’s vision had gone black for a moment when she stood, her captor having to grab her by the arm to keep her steady. Which had led to the wonderful discovery that there were very deep bruises all over her arms. What the hell had happened to her?</p><p>Finally getting to view her restraints with her own eyes, any hope May had of trying to break them died a quick death. The chains weren’t old or rusty, they looked new, or at least well taken care of.</p><p><em> Well</em>, May thought grimly, <em> at least I won’t get tetanus. </em></p><p>Like this she could get a better idea of her body’s condition. Everything felt sore and bruised. </p><p>If anything was broken or fractured it wasn’t so badly that any of her limbs were immobile. Her shoulders hurt, knives of pain being driven into the joints and her muscles burned. Even now that her arms were in a more natural position it hurt to breathe, her ribs twinging if she took a full breath. </p><p>But May could walk, which meant, given the chance, she could run. </p><p>She tried to think all of this as calmly as possible, trying to separate the pain and fear from her assessment of her body. </p><p>May was only allowed this long enough to drink water, eat a granola bar, and then to use the bathroom. May didn’t dare try to take advantage, not with the gun holstered on the man’s hip and not with the threat of Peter’s safety on the line. Unfortunately the hallway was completely bare, the short walk not even passing any other doors. Absolutely no clues about where Peter might be. The walls and floor were bare and made of concrete, just like the room, that was the only detail May got besides the fact that leaving the room they had turned left.</p><p>"You've got three minutes," the man ordered. "Don't make me go in there." She nodded to show she understood.</p><p>The bathroom was bare. Just a toilet, toilet paper, a sink, a soap dispenser, and a hand dryer. No mirror to shatter for an impromptu weapon like in the movies. May wasn't sure if that would actually even work but the possibility of it would have been nice. She wriggled the spout of the sink, or tried to, but it was rock solid. May sighed. Not like she had full use of her arms anyways, and without knowing where Peter was it was all a moot point.</p><p>Without a mirror she couldn't properly check the damage to her face, and she couldn't reach enough to even check with her fingers either. Even frowning too deeply hurt, May forced herself to relax her face.</p><p>Looking at her hands the first thing she noticed was that most of her nails were broken. That was just about the only thing that wasn't alarming.</p><p>She took in the bruises on the skin of her lower arms, the cuts, and scrapes. The skin was red from the duct tape, sensitive and hurting from where it had torn off the hair on her arms. Removing the duct tape had also started some of the injuries that had clotted bleeding again. Injuries that she had absolutely no memory of getting. May stared at herself in shock, eyes fixed on one small cut on her right arm, watching blood slowly well up. Taking in the image of her arm, the damaged skin, the cuts, the colorful bruises, and the wound around her wrist that was wrapped in a chain, May couldn't recognize the limb as her own. It was all deeply disturbing in a way she couldn't articulate.</p><p>May had never been squeamish about blood, or gore in movies, but this wasn’t an image on a screen and it wasn’t just a cut. It wasn't even a feeling that she would call being squeamish, it was something deeper. Something instinctual deep in her brain wanted to reject the damage she saw on her own skin. It might have been a type of shock, May wasn’t sure. She just knows there was this deep and strange impulse to want to physically get away from her own limbs.</p><p>When washing her hands May was able to better examine how injured the skin of her wrists were. It was no wonder they hurt so badly, the skin was rubbed raw and ripped from the chains. Like someone had put the skin around her wrist through a shredder. She tried to wash the wounds as best as she could, hissing with discomfort as she did so. </p><p>Unable to lift her hands high enough to check her head, May grimly concluded she’d have to trust Toomes’ judgement when he’d checked the wound himself. If she was being honest with herself it was the thing she was most worried about.</p><p>May looked down at her palms, opening and closing her hands. It was quickly becoming a habit, May was discovering. The only part of her that she could focus on that she could freely control and move. </p><p>The sum of May’s bodily autonomy had shrunken down to the curl of her fingers.</p><p>Despair thrummed underneath the ache in her skull at the thought.</p><p>Then all too soon it was back to the room, May tried to pretend that she didn't realize that in the few minutes she'd been in the bathroom she'd lost her sense of direction and couldn't remember if the bathroom was left or right of the room they'd come from. She didn't want to think about what that meant. Then it was back to having her hands bound behind her by her wrists, her ankles too. The only difference was that now it was just chains without any duct tape. A small victory, she supposed. And she wouldn't complain about not being gagged and blindfolded. Though part of her had been hoping that maybe she’d be taken to Peter.</p><p>“Where’s my kid?” May asked, speaking to the man for the first time.</p><p>He didn’t even seem to hear her.</p><p>When the man left the lights had shut off, leaving May in a pitch black room.</p><p>May did believe Toomes when he said that Peter was alive, and she believed him when he said that Peter was here.</p><p>He’d said Peter wasn’t hurt, May had no reason to believe that he was lying, just like she had no reason to think he was telling the truth. It was ridiculous but to May it felt like what she believed, even concussed and chained up in the dark, would make a difference. Like the wrong thing might hurt Peter.</p><p>Imagining Peter in her exact position, chained up in a pitch black room, afraid and alone, was a torture all it’s own.</p><p>Toomes had said she had been used as a hostage to convince Peter to come quietly. So Peter knew she was here. He could be on the other side of any of the walls and May would have no way of knowing.</p><p>Not long after she’d been left alone May had tried yelling despite what Toomes had told her, nothing came of it. She had to assume that they were somewhere isolated or that the room dampened sound. Maybe the walls were insulated with something. Whatever the reason May decided to save her breath.</p><p>May thought back to her conversation with Toomes, the memory slippery and fuzzy with exhaustion and pain. </p><p>He’d said that his business had began after the invasion, so 2012. Even giving him a year to find his criminal footing…He would have been doing this for at least three years. He had to have some sort of base of operations. He couldn’t have built that bird costume in his living room.</p><p>She pondered that for a moment, recalling how he’d introduced his alter-ego. Raven? No that wasn’t it. A spike of alarm went through her as she realized she couldn’t remember. How could she forget that? It just happened! May spent the next few minutes going through all the types of birds she could remember. It seemed important that she prove to herself that she could do it.  </p><p>A desert bird. Yes, something to do with the desert. She could picture it, but the actual word wouldn’t come to her. May was becoming very familiar with the tip of your tongue feeling and it became more frightening every time.</p><p>May shook her head, a stake driving into her head at the movement. </p><p>
  <em> Why am I thinking about birds!? What had… </em>
</p><p>“Dammit....”</p><p>May tried to swallow down the knot that was growing in her throat. The pressure of fear and helplessness against her sternum growing stronger. She tried to trace her thoughts backwards. She’d been thinking of something else.</p><p>May isn’t sure how long she took to remember, she had no way of measuring time besides her internal clock and she didn’t trust that, especially at the moment. Her temples throbbed in time with her pulse and May tried not to think too much about what a bad sign all these things were.</p><p>It felt like she was walking in mental circles, exhausting and frustrating in equal measure. Maybe she just needed to rest. But weren’t you supposed to stay awake after a head injury? She couldn’t remember the specifics.</p><p>Maybe it would be better if she gave her body a chance to recover a bit. The thought made her feel guilty, even trying to rest when Peter was somewhere in trouble, alone and possibly hurt, seemed ridiculous and wrong. Even if there was nothing she could do to escape her own predicament, May couldn’t shake the squirming, gnawing feeling of guilt that curled in her stomach at the thought of rest.</p><p>But she had no idea where he was, no idea where she was--</p><p><em> Ah, that’s it! </em> She had been trying to figure out where they could be. It seemed stupidly obvious now that she remembered. May told herself to not waste energy contemplating her stupidity and focused on the matter at hand.</p><p>A hideout, that’s what she’d been thinking. Maybe that’s where they were. In that case they might be somewhere that had been eluding authorities for <em> years</em>.</p><p>May shivered at the thought, hope of rescue shrinking at the realization.</p><p>That didn’t tell her anything. No matter how many times May tried to look for something that could help her, or at least something that would give her clues about Peter, she couldn’t think of anything. Losing her train of thought and hardly realizing it, the pain her body reminded her of, and the exhaustion, didn’t help.</p><p>She doesn’t know how long she stayed there like that. Long enough that May remembered, or rather was reminded of, the disturbing factoid about how people began to hallucinate when left in absolute darkness for too long.</p><p>And that ‘too long’ could be as little as hours.</p><p>“Great,” May muttered to herself. Colors, not unlike what would she would have seen if she rubbed her eyes too hard, were making appearances in her vision. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”</p><p>If she kept hold of her annoyance, of her anger, then she could keep herself from the much more chaotic ocean of deep terror below it. The anger was sharp and biting, focused on the indignity and bitterness of her situation, the fear wasn’t. May would much rather be muttering curses at herself in the dark than struggling to catch her breath with panicked crying.</p><p>So anger it was. Anger at herself for still drawing absolute blanks when she tried to remember anything that led to her being here, anger that she didn’t know where Peter was.</p><p>Anger about the fact that she was seeing things that weren’t there.</p><p>Unfortunately May was also reminded that she could feel more than one thing at a time, no matter how hard she tried to hold onto one to forget the other.</p><p>With nothing except herself, her pain and her thoughts, there was no way May could ignore the facts.</p><p>She was hurt.</p><p>She was also deeply afraid.</p><p>Surrounded by darkness and completely helpless May was left to be consumed by her pain and her terror.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="tumblr-post">
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  <p>Ned had gone home soon after getting caught in the computer lab, trying and failing to get through to the number Peter had given him and that had hung up on him before. The second he’d been within reach of his laptop Ned had tried more aggressive tactics to get through.</p>
  <p>But it seemed that after the suit fiasco that Tony Stark had taken extra steps to keep hackers out of anything and everything. And that getting through once earlier in the night had been enough for someone to close the hole he’d used. </p>
  <p>Ned was good. He knew he was good. But he was also fifteen and in high school.</p>
  <p>Even when he got through anything, when he managed to open a door, something slammed it back shut. It was like the coding was changing in real time. Whatever it was Ned couldn’t get through.</p>
  <p>He didn’t get anyone on the phone that night. Ned slept restlessly, tossing and turning the whole night.  He couldn’t even text Peter, since his phone was being used as a tracker.</p>
  <p>So instead he sent a text to May, asking her to tell him when Peter got home. She would think it was weird, but Ned didn’t care.</p>
  <p>The next morning the only notifications on his phone were from Michelle and Liz. Both asking about Peter running out of the dance, and asking why Ned had left so early.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Ned’s world shifts in three stages.</p>
  <p>Early morning, Saturday. Late morning, Saturday. And then Monday morning.</p>
  <p>Saturday early morning Ned learns that Spider-Man failed. He learns this from the news.</p>
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  <p>Saturday late morning is when Ned discovers that his best friend and his best friend’s aunt are both missing.</p>
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  <p>When Ned hadn’t been able to get in touch with Peter or May he’d gone to the apartment only to find the whole place was wrapped up in yellow crime scene tape. Serious faced officers and a curious gaggle of neighbors had crowded the hallway leading into the Parker apartment.</p>
  <p>It hadn’t seemed real, a bizarre dream. He’d been shoved and pushed back until he’d loudly declared that he knew them, which had caught the attention of one of the officers.</p>
  <p>That was when he got the truly horrible news.</p>
  <p>
    <em> Peter and May were both missing. </em>
  </p>
  <p>It was like a punch in the gut from Captain America, Ned had just stared at the person who had told him. Like if he stared long enough the nightmare would end or someone would say there’s been a mistake. It was just a break in but the Parkers were fine, just down the street getting breakfast or something.</p>
  <p>It didn’t happen. It was all real.</p>
  <p>Someone had noticed the busted door to the apartment and had called the cops. Neither Parker could be found, no one had been able to get in contact with them. Ned isn’t sure who actually ended up reporting them missing, but someone had.</p>
  <p>In hindsight Ned probably shouldn’t have gotten the police officer’s attention without preparing for what he was going to say. Because he now had a date “to be determined” with a detective for an interview. They’d taken down his name and contact information, and his mom’s contact information, and then they refused to tell him anything else.</p>
  <p>“Wait!” The cop turned. “Is there an amber alert for Peter? He’s a kid.” But the cop was already shaking their head before he finished speaking.</p>
  <p>“So far as we can tell this case doesn’t meet the criteria for one,” they explained.</p>
  <p>“But--”</p>
  <p>“If that changes, we’ll get on it.”</p>
  <p>That was the most information Ned had gotten about anything.</p>
  <p>The door was broken and left hanging open. He hadn’t been able to see completely inside the apartment, but what little he could see was trashed. His imagination had gone wild applying the force that had been used to break in toward May and Peter. What had they used? A crowbar? Did they have a gun?</p>
  <p>
    <em> Were Peter and May dead? </em>
  </p>
  <p>He still doesn’t know the answer to that question. Because no one knew where Peter and May were.</p>
  <p>A heavy unfamiliar hand, an older guy, maybe from another apartment in the building, squeezed Ned’s shoulder reassuringly.</p>
  <p>“They don’t have any body bags, son. Just pray for the best, eh?”</p>
  <p>Right. Pray. </p>
  <p>His mom had the same advice when he told her what he’d found out. She hugged him and Ned realized he was shaking. “They’re clever,” his mom reminded him, stroking his hair reassuringly. “They’ll be found soon.”</p>
  <p>But he could see in the lines of her face that she was just as shaken by the news as he was.</p>
  <p>He tried to track Peter’s phone, only to find it at...school.</p>
  <p>According to the phone it had never left campus. Ned knew that was total and complete bullshit because it had been in Brooklyn. But no matter how he looked at it, the phone data said the same thing. It never left Midtown Tech. It’s been there since Friday, about 7:30 PM. and hasn’t moved off campus.</p>
  <p>Which Ned knows to mean that someone tampered with it.</p>
  <p>Which means that they had known, or figured out, that Peter was following them with it.</p>
  <p>Ned had tracked May’s phone too, he hadn’t expected to find anything, and he didn’t. It was now sitting in an evidence locker. Or he guessed it was, it was at an address for a police precinct. It had probably been in the apartment.</p>
  <p>He’d gone to campus, trying to find Peter’s phone, frustrated to discover that it was somewhere inside the building.</p>
  <p>When Ned gets back home Saturday afternoon after his trip to campus, he feels numb. That night, Ned goes ahead and follows his mom’s advice and prays. He spends all of Sunday trying and failing to get through anything and everything Tony Stark.</p>
  <p>Everything is impossible now. And he knows why. The cargo plane being robbed meant that somehow the information about it’s schedule had gotten to the robbers, so now all of Stark Industries was on digital lockdown. At least, that’s what Ned was hearing on the news. If he was even a little less careful Ned is fairly certain his laptop would get bricked. </p>
  <p>Early Monday morning, well before first period, he was able to follow Peter’s phone straight to the office. That’s when Ned finds out that the school hadn’t been informed about May and Peter’s disappearances.</p>
  <p>For some reason it shocked him. To Ned it was explosive terrible news that everyone in the state should already know about, especially the school.</p>
  <p>Then a reality check like a bucket of ice water poured over his head. Who would have told the school? Peter and May didn’t have anyone who would think to tell the school or May’s work. Maybe the police would get to it eventually, if only to interview people or something, but just as a ‘head’s up’? There was no one.</p>
  <p>It made him incredibly sad, bringing his mood down even lower.</p>
  <p>So it was up to Ned to haltingly explain to the person at the front office desk that one of the cell phones sitting in the Lost &amp; Found bin belonged to Peter Parker, and that Peter was missing.</p>
  <p>“<em>Legally </em>missing,” Ned stressed when Mrs. Abott didn’t seem to know if she should believe him. She was more shocked than skeptical, Ned would give her that. “Call the police department if you wanna check, I’m serious!”</p>
  <p>Would they have put out a missing persons thing yet? If they had maybe he could look it up.</p>
  <p>He must have looked a sight, having not slept the entire weekend, stressed and worried about his friend, because Mrs. Abott asked him to wait while she talked to Principal Morita. Not a minute later he was ushered into the principal’s office.</p>
  <p>“Mr. Leeds, correct?” he greeted. </p>
  <p>Ned nodded, he’d never been in trouble before and he was only a sophomore, he’d only been at Midtown Tech for a year. Not long enough to become familiar enough that the principal would know him on sight, Mrs. Abott must have told him his name.</p>
  <p>“Mrs. Abbott told me something about a student being missing?”</p>
  <p>“Peter. Peter Parker,” Ned said, eager. He was relieved someone was listening to him, but his heart also broke over the fact that there was no one else to tell the school for him. “And May. His aunt. Peter’s phone, I tracked it and it’s here in the office but it shouldn’t be.”</p>
  <p>Mr. Morita not-so-discreetly pushed a box of tissues closer to the edge of his desk, towards Ned, looking thoughtful. Ned glanced at it, then ignored it.</p>
  <p>“Mr. Parker...sophomore?” </p>
  <p>Ned nodded.</p>
  <p>“I had him in my office recently, and I also remember speaking with his aunt over the phone,” Mr. Morita said, looking troubled. “But no one hasn’t contacted us to inform--”</p>
  <p>“There’s no one to tell you!” Ned blurted, needing them to understand that Peter’s phone <em> shouldn’t be on campus</em>; it was supposed to be in Brooklyn, it was supposed to be somewhere helpful that could tell Ned where his friend was. “It’s just them! <em> Just </em> Peter and May! No other family or anything, so no one told the school and I bet no one told May’s work either. Call the police! Peter and May are missing. Like legally, already reported <em> missing! </em>” He was speaking too fast, words running into each other by the end.</p>
  <p>Mr. Morita nodded, unfazed by Ned’s outburst. “Mr. Leeds, I understand that this is a troubling situation.” Ned wanted to cry, ‘troubling’ didn’t cover it. “Would you be alright with waiting outside of the office for a few moments?”</p>
  <p>Ned opened his mouth to protest, but the principal beat him to it.</p>
  <p>“I’m going to have Mrs. Abott pull up Mr. Parker’s emergency contact list, just to check if there was anyone you’re unaware of who can inform us of the situation. If not then I will contact the authorities, as you suggested, to get the news from an official source.” He made sure to look Ned in the eye. “I’m not brushing you off, Mr. Leeds.”</p>
  <p>Ned nodded, uncomfortable but sensing that Mr. Morita was being earnest.</p>
  <p>After what Ned would classify as longer than ‘a few moments’ he was called back in. Mr. Morita seemed to have aged ten years, Mrs. Abott’s eyes were trained on her desk. The principal directed Ned back into his office, they both sat down. His expression was grave as he looked at Ned.</p>
  <p>“Mr. Leeds, thank you for bringing this to our attention. You were right in that there were no other...available...family contacts in our records.”</p>
  <p>He spoke carefully and at first Ned didn’t realize why. Then it hit him.</p>
  <p>Ben.</p>
  <p><em> Ben’s information would still be in Peter’s file, </em>Ned realized. His heart, if possible, twisted into an even tighter knot in his chest.</p>
  <p>“The authorities have confirmed what you told me, I informed them of Mr. Parker’s cellphone being found on campus and they are sending someone to collect it as it may be an important piece of evidence in their search for the Parker family.” </p>
  <p>That was...good, Ned guessed. Even though Peter’s phone wasn’t supposed to be at Midtown Tech.</p>
  <p>“They suggested that I inform the student body of the situation, in case any one has information they’d like to bring forward.” He frowned at the phone on his desk. “I also told them of the oversight that you brought up, that there has been no one to inform Mrs. Parker’s place of work, just as there was no one to contact us. They assured me they would correct it right away. Though it was pointed out to me that they are not legally required to inform the school right away...”</p>
  <p>By his tone Ned could tell that Mr. Morita felt uneasy, and wasn’t happy that they hadn’t told the school yet.</p>
  <p>“The last time I saw Peter was at Homecoming,” he volunteered, the knot in his throat growing bigger. “I don’t…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.</p>
  <p>Mr. Morita, if possible, looked even more somber. </p>
  <p>“Even more important, then. If one of the last places Mr. Parker was seen was on our campus during a school event.” He sighed, standing. “It’s an ongoing investigation so they only confirmed that Peter and May Parker are missing. They also reassured me that there doesn’t appear to be any credible threat to the school,” he looked at Ned. “You were already aware of this situation and took the initiative to find Mr. Parker’s phone, you’re also obviously very upset.”</p>
  <p>It wasn’t a question, but Ned knew what he was asking anyways.</p>
  <p>“He’s my best friend.” Mr. Morita’s eyes were sympathetic. “Peter didn’t answer his phone so I went to the apartment on Saturday, there were a bunch of police there. And then they told me that May was gone too. But they didn’t say anything else.”</p>
  <p>“I understand, Mr. Leeds. Again, I thank you for informing the school of this.” A pause, the look he gave Ned was earnest. “Please remember that the counseling office has resources that might be helpful to you. And know that even in only informing me and making the authorities aware of Mr. Parker’s cellphone you’ve already helped your friend more than could ever be expected of you in this situation.”</p>
  <p>The words were meant to be reassuring, but instead they made him feel a hundred times worse. Ned hadn’t helped Peter, not in a good way. The only thing he’d helped Peter do was disappear. And now he couldn’t even find out where he was and he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, get in touch with Stark. And Ned had no idea if keeping the Spider-Man secret was helping or hurting.</p>
  <p>If something happened to Peter and May, it was his fault.</p>
  <p>From there Ned left the office, as did the principal. Ned wasted time until class, when the morning student announcements came on the television everyone else was shocked to see a somber faced Principal Morita there instead of the student anchors.</p>
  <p>Ned wasn’t.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Monday morning is when everyone else found out what Ned has known for two days.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Everyone thought that the most newsworthy morning announcement from the student news this year was going to be what had happened to the Academic Decathlon team in D.C., that nothing else would come close.</p>
  <p>They were wrong.</p>
  <p>Ned stared at his desk, already knowing what Mr. Morita was going to say even as everyone stiffened and quieted. Anxious about what it could be that called for the principal to make an announcement so suddenly and with such a grim expression on his face.</p>
  <p>“I know you’re all wondering why I’m speaking to you this morning instead of our usual student news anchors.” Even the teacher’s expression was wary as he watched the t.v. “I have some truly troubling news to share with you all, students <em> and </em> staff. I apologize in advance to our educators and our other staff for the lack of warning, I have only just been informed of the situation and I feel it is urgent enough that it needs to be shared now.”</p>
  <p>Ned kept his head down, not taking his eyes off of his desk. Michelle was eying him warily. Ned was the only one who’s eyes weren’t glued to the t.v., he wasn’t surprised that Michelle noticed.  Maybe he should have told her, she was their friend, sorta. She sat with them sometimes. Oh well, it was too late now.</p>
  <p>“A student has been reported missing.” A collective gasp went through the class, Ned imagined he could hear it from the entire school. “Peter Parker, sophomore. Along with his aunt and guardian, May Parker.”</p>
  <p>The second ‘Peter Parker’ left his mouth the whole class, even the teacher, turned to look at Ned. He looked up, ignoring the stares. A picture of Peter, the one from school, appeared on the screen. In large red letters at the bottom of the screen was a phone number. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Michelle’s eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them, lips parted, as she stared at Ned. Like she was waiting for him to tell her that the announcement was wrong. He wished he could.</p>
  <p>Everyone turned back to the t.v. as Mr. Morita continued to speak.</p>
  <p>“Both Mr. Parker and Mrs. Parker were last seen on October 21st, last friday. Authorities have asked that if you have any information to please contact them.” Mr. Morita paused, giving everyone a moment to absorb the information. The picture and phone number remained on the screen. “Authorities have assured me that the incident has no connection and poses <em> no threat </em> to our school. With that said one of the last places, to my knowledge, Mr. Parker was seen was on campus during Friday’s dance. Again there is no credible or known threat to Midtown Tech, but I ask everyone to still be aware of their surroundings.”</p>
  <p>If the words were meant to ease the suddenly piano-wire tight tension in the air, it didn’t work.</p>
  <p>“I speak for everyone at Midtown Tech when I say that it is our deepest hope that they are both found safe.” There was another pause, this one out of respect for the situation. “I would also like to remind everyone that the counseling office is open if anyone has need of their services. And I also remind our staff that there are resources available to you as well.” A breath. </p>
  <p>“Thank you for your time.”</p>
  <p>The second the screen went dark everyone in the class shuffled and turned to stare at Ned again. Ned returned his eyes to his desk, but he could feel the pinprick discomfort of everyone’s eyes on him.</p>
  <p>The class was dead silent, from the open door, far down the hallway, the sound of a locker slamming reached them.</p>
  <p>Then it was broken.</p>
  <p>“Leeds, d--”</p>
  <p>“Shut the fuck up, Flash.” It was Michelle. </p>
  <p>There wasn’t any heat behind the words. Just a blunt command, she didn’t even glance at Flash as she spoke, eyes trained on Ned, like she was seeing him for the first time and didn’t like what she was looking at.</p>
  <p>Despite being more than loud enough for the entire class, including the teacher, to hear she wasn’t scolded for her language. No one said anything at all, not even Flash.</p>
  <p>“They’re apartment was--is,” Ned corrected, speaking haltingly in the too quiet class, “wrecked. I don’t…”</p>
  <p>He didn’t continue. Not knowing what to say or even why he had said that much, it’s not like he wanted to talk about it.</p>
  <p>The silence stretched awkwardly, everyone staring and Ned or exchanging troubled glances with each other. The whole class startled when the teacher clapped to grab their attention.</p>
  <p>“Class, I understand that the news we just received is extremely upsetting…” </p>
  <p>Michelle was still looking at him, like everyone else she looked deeply disturbed by the news, unlike everyone else it looked like she was trying to figure out a way to say something to him about it. In the end she turned away, facing the front of the class.</p>
  <p>And so life at Midtown Tech continued, sans one Peter Benjamin Parker.</p>
  <p>Ned stared at his desk.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I gave May a middle name because why not. (on the mcu wiki it says her full name is Maybelle?? Maybelle). The vehicle description in May’s report is actually the car May drives (as far as I can tell). And the license plate is her actual plate number too! <br/>May has a concussion and she’s exhausted (fun fact! Being unconscious is not the same as sleep). So her thoughts wander off if she’s left alone, when she had someone to talk to it was less noticeable. Given some rest she’ll be a little more on the ball...she hopes.<br/>So. Ned is having a terrible time. He did get a hug from his mom though. Didn't make it better, but it's something. We'll be seeing Ned throughout the fic and we'll see how Midtown Tech is reacting to everything. Poor Ned is desperate to get Iron Man's attention, unfortunately he's competing with a huge Stark Industries/Avengers security breach and robbery so he's got his work cut out for him.</p><p>Between the research I’ve done on Missing Persons procedures and on injuries my search history looks very concerning, but I'm trying to be somewhat accurate.</p><p>I’ve already fallen on my face with virtual learning. We went virtual in march but still. Zoom classes are an adhd academic’s Hell.</p><p>https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Can Hear the Sirens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Missing Persons investigation for the Parker family continues.<br/>Ned answers to the police and to a friend, he tells neither the truth.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is from "Sirens" by Fleurie<br/>Sorry no Parkers this time. But may I offer you some Ned Leeds in this trying time?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In his class after lunch the teacher answered the class phone, called Ned up to the front, and told him to go to the office.</p><p>Ned knew what it was for already, he thought so anyways. Was there any other reason besides Peter for him to be called to the office?</p><p>None of it felt real, everything was just like it was supposed to be. The hallways were the same, the people were the same.</p><p>But it wasn’t the same, his best friend was missing.</p><p>Peter and May were both missing and Ned knew more than anyone else and still nothing at all.</p><p>He dragged his feet on his way to the office, dread weighing down his steps.</p><p>When he got there he was met with an unexpected sight.</p><p>“Liz?”</p><p>She offered a subdued smile and a tiny wave as Ned sat in the chair next to her. Her eyes were red, but so were his so he didn’t comment.</p><p>“I guess we’re here for the same reason,” she said lowly.</p><p>Ned nodded.</p><p>“There’s a detective who wants to talk to us,” Liz continued, “but Mr. Morita is lecturing him. They already called our parents.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>He stared at his shoes for a while, wondering what to tell the detective. </p><p>Because officially speaking…</p><p>“I was the last person to see Peter,” Ned says, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. “When—When he left the dance. I was the last person to see him. I think so, anyways.”</p><p>Liz’s expression tightened, she nodded looking toward the floor.</p><p>“Then I was the second-to-last,” she murmured. “Did he say anything to you? He was acting weird. Scared. He <em> ran </em>out. And now he’s missing it just...I don’t know.”</p><p>Ned swallowed, again wondering what he could say, what he should say. Part of him wanted to just tell the truth, to tell the police that Peter was Spider-Man and whatever had happened was Vulture’s fault. It had to be. His best friend was missing and Ned was caught between keeping Peter’s secret or telling the truth and maybe helping him get found.</p><p>And then May was missing too, Ned couldn’t forget that. </p><p><em> Stupid </em>, he told himself. The electricity-guy had been waiting outside of the school for Peter. It meant they knew who Peter was which meant they knew who May was. Why hadn’t either of them thought of that? Why didn’t they take a second to call May to warn her?</p><p>Or had it already been too late? Ned didn’t know.</p><p>“He was acting weird,” Ned agreed, still talking towards their shoes. “He said he had to do something. Or...something like that,” he finished lamely. Not having the energy to put into forming words.</p><p>“You’re his best friend, right?” She knew he was, everyone knew. Ned nodded anyways. “...Did you know his aunt too?”</p><p>Ned nodded again. “She’s really nice.”</p><p>“I never asked,” Liz says hesitantly, “but...why did he live with his aunt?”</p><p>Ned sighed, it wasn’t like it was a secret. Peter got annoyed when people asked over and over again, but he didn’t mind people knowing. He just didn’t appreciate the way people reacted.</p><p>But Peter wasn’t here, and Ned knew he wouldn’t mind if he told Liz.</p><p>“His parents died when he was like 3,” Liz’s eyes widened, Ned bit the inside of his cheek, “his aunt and uncle adopted him.”</p><p>“Uncle,” she prodded, half a question.</p><p>“He died like a year ago.”</p><p>Liz gasped. “Oh my god.”</p><p>Ned grimaced, looking up to see the distress on Liz’s face. </p><p>“He was really nice too.” He adjusted in his seat, wondering how long they were going to keep them in the office. “I can’t—” he coughed, trying to clear his throat of the perpetual knot that he’s had since he first saw the Parker apartment, “I can’t believe this is real. Missing. They’re missing. I don’t—” he stopped.</p><p>What a weird thing to be talking to Liz Toomes about, he thought.</p><p>He jumped at the feeling of a hand on his arm, he looked up. Liz’s sympathetic eyes meeting his own. “I can’t believe it either,” she said in a hushed voice, “that anyone I know would be missing is so...It seems fake. But he’s your best friend. I can’t imagine…” she trailed off.</p><p>Ned took a deep breath, not sure how to reply. He just nodded, hoping his expression could relay his thanks. She nodded back, so Ned thinks she got the message.</p><p>Principal Morita lectured the detective about not being able to interview minors without parental consent and read him the riot act for even trying. All under the guise of collecting Peter’s cell.</p><p>Ned isn’t sure if the detective was actually trying anything underhanded or had just thought it might be convenient, he did suspect that the principal was glad for the opportunity to complain to someone in person about not informing the school right away.</p><p>Either way they called his and Liz’s parents, and everyone had interviews scheduled for the next day. Parental consent and possible legal-stuff all worked out. Ned couldn’t bring himself to pay too much attention to it all.</p><p>All in all an eventful Monday. Tomorrow he was going to miss morning classes so he could talk to the police. </p><p>Peter and May were missing. Ned was the only one who knew the truth. He knew more than literally anyone else. He was going to talk to the police. </p><p>Ned feels too numb to really process how jarring everything is. It was like he was in a fishtank, noises muted through the water and glass. Watching as blurry things happened outside of the tank.</p><p>Both he and Liz were offered the chance to go home for the day.</p><p>Ned had a decision to make.</p><p>He could tell the truth. Could tell them the Spider-Man a secret and that he, sorta, knew who had kidnapped the Parkers…</p><p>Or he could lie.</p><p> </p><p>Liz stayed at school. Ned decided to go home.</p><p>He had more important things to do. Like throwing the digital equivalent of a rock through Stark’s metaphorical technological window. A very big rock. </p><p>A very big, very large, very angry rock because he wasn’t. getting. through!</p><p>Ned jumped, his laptop’s fan picking up speed. It kept going, whirring and whirring as the already hot device warmed further.</p><p>“Don’t—”</p><p>The screen went blue, then black. Ned gave a frustrated sigh, resisting the urge to throw his laptop at the wall.</p><p>Okay, how else could he get Stark’s attention? </p><p>He looked at his phone. Thinking. Spider-Man hasn’t been seen since the ferry was cut in half. But then he stole Flash’s car. And Flash had a following on social media, Ned knows he posted about it. Has been posting about it.</p><p>He frowned. No, he doubted that would get Stark’s attention at all. As much as Ned wished he could just shout from the rooftops that Spider-Man was missing it didn’t work like that.</p><p>Ned put his face into his hands, pressing the heels of his palm into his eyeballs until he saw colors. He had to do something! It was Peter and May! They were counting on him!</p><p>Ned was the only person in the <em> whole world </em>who knew the truth. The only person besides Peter and Vulture, anyways. </p><p>He wondered if May knew about Spider-Man now.</p><p>He wondered if she was even still alive. If either she or Peter were still alive.</p><p>Despair, cloying and miserable, fell across his shoulders. Because what if they <em> weren’t? </em>What if it was already too late and they were dead?</p><p>No, Spider-Man wouldn’t just die like that. Wouldn’t just up and vanish. He was Spider-Man! He was a hero and when they died everyone knew it. And he was so strong, how could anything hurt Peter? He held the freakin’ <em> Staten Island Ferry </em> together. He healed super fast, so fast that Ned could watch a scrape just disappear right off of him. And he was the smartest person Ned knew. Even before he had powers Peter already had his super brain. So then what could kill Spider-Man? Could kill Peter? <em> Nothing, </em> that’s what. </p><p>Peter could probably get hit by a bullet train and he’d walk it off.</p><p>Ned had to believe that. </p><p>As for May, she couldn’t die. She wasn’t allowed to die. God has to have given her a break or something because at this point it’s really weird that so many of Peter’s parents keep dying. Real life plot-armor. Lose 3 parents, get the fourth for life. Like, no, you can’t kill off May Parker, we’ve already explored the ‘dead parent’ storyline. Against the rules. Sorry not sorry grim reaper come back in fifty years with a warrant. </p><p>Besides, May was really scary when she wanted to be. He’s been in the car when someone cut her off, he’d know.</p><p>...When was the last time he slept?</p><p>Ned breathed in deeply, holding it for a second, before releasing it slowly. His parents were worried about him. And he knew they were really really worried because his little sister hasn’t bothered him the last few days, which means they told her not to, and they never did that. But they didn’t know, no one knew, what Ned did.</p><p>Ned had to get help, he had to. He knew it was Vulture, and he knew that at some point Peter and Vulture were at an industrial yard in Brooklyn. </p><p>Then there was something that kept bugging him.</p><p>When, and how, had Vulture found out who Peter was? And why had Peter gone after Vulture then? He hadn’t known that Vulture was going to rob the Avenger jet until Ned had mentioned the boxes. And while Peter had been confident that his phone was tracking the bad guy...how had Peter gotten his phone somewhere like that? The whole thing was weird and sudden.</p><p>Ned ran through the information he had again, rearranging it and looking at it again and then doing it again. Trying to find something that he missed, something that could help.</p><p>Nothing new came to him, until it did he’d keep trying to get Iron Man’s help. It was the last thing Peter had asked him to do. Call Happy Hogan or Tony Stark.</p><p><em> He just couldn’t get through. </em> To anyone. He’d tried to hack into something of War Machine’s and Ned is surprised a SWAT team hadn’t broken into his house with the military stuff on top of the Stark things. And then Virginia Potts’ had almost been worse, a voice had come through his computer. An actual voice, warning him off. It had scared the hell out of him. It even had an accent.</p><p>He looked at his laptop again.</p><p>In that moment Ned hated Iron Man.</p><p>But he hated himself a lot more.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>[Interview with Elizabeth Toomes]</b>
</p><p>OCT 25 2016</p><p>---</p><p>INTERVIEWER: When was the last time you saw Peter Parker?</p><p>TOOMES: At the Homecoming Dance, he was my date.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: For the record, will you state the date and time that was?</p><p>TOOMES: October 21st. Um. I don’t know the time exactly. Like 8? Maybe 7:30, I wasn’t paying attention to the time.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Did anything seem odd to you about Peter Parker’s  behavior?</p><p>TOOMES: [NODDING]  He was really...stiff. Nervous. But Peter gets like that sometimes so it wasn’t <em> weird </em> weird. But then after he finished talking with my dad [DOES NOT CONTINUE SENTENCE]</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Talking with your dad? Elaborate on that please.</p><p>TOOMES: It was like one or two minutes, just trying to scare Peter you know? He does it everytime I go out with a boy. Tells them to be nice to me. He’s sorta overprotective.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: I see, and you weren’t privy to his conversation?</p><p>TOOMES: No. [SHAKES HEAD] They were in the car, I was waiting in the gym.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Then what happened? After Peter Parker left the car, what happened?</p><p>TOOMES: I saw him walk into the dance. And he walked up to me and—I don’t know. He sorta looked around.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Looked around? Can you give more detail? Did he seem troubled? Flushed or pale?</p><p>TOOMES: It was dark, there were a lot of lights </p><p>[PAUSE] </p><p>TOOMES: I don’t know. Just...he looked upset. I don’t know.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: That’s alright, Miss Toomes, please continue. What happened next?</p><p>TOOMES: I thought maybe my dad freaked him out, because like I said Peter gets nervous, so I asked him what my dad told him. He didn’t answer but he said something weird, before running out.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Weird?</p><p>TOOMES: He stared at me, then...Then Peter said sorry and that I didn’t deserve this.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: What did he mean by ‘this’? What was he apologizing for?</p><p>TOOMES: I don’t know.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>[Interview with Adrian Toomes]</b>
</p><p>OCT 25 2016</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>INTERVIEWER: When Peter Parker was at your residence, did anything seem odd to you?</p><p>TOOMES: No. The kid was nervous, but it’s a dance. And you’re supposed to be nervous when meeting your date’s dad.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: And how did he get there?</p><p>TOOMES: To the house?</p><p>[INTERVIEWER NODS]</p><p>TOOMES: I guess he was dropped off by his aunt, I didn’t ask.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: So you had no contact with May Parker that night?</p><p>TOOMES: None.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: And did you see her? Or the car?</p><p>TOOMES: No. </p><p>[PAUSE]</p><p>TOOMES: I opened the door and introduced myself to my daughter’s date, I wasn't paying attention to any cars driving off.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Are you at all familiar with May Parker’s vehicle?</p><p>TOOMES: No.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: But you have some acquaintance with her?</p><p>TOOMES: Yeah, some. Her kid is on the Academic Decathlon team with my daughter. We’ve seen each other around.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Would you say that you’re familiar enough with her to identify her on sight?</p><p>TOOMES: Sure.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, please.</p><p>TOOMES: Yes.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: But you are not familiar enough to know what car she drives?</p><p>TOOMES: Nope</p><p>INTERVIEWER: So you only assume that it was May Parker who dropped Peter Parker off at your residence.</p><p>TOOMES: I guess? What are you getting at?</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Can you tell us any details about the vehicle? Color, make, license plate?</p><p>TOOMES: I just told you I wasn’t paying attention to the street!</p><p>INTERVIEWER: I understand that sir. But think back, are you sure you didn’t notice the vehicle or the driver? Any detail. </p><p>TOOMES: I already said no.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Why did you assume that it was May Parker who dropped Peter Parker off at your residence? Perhaps you noticed something unconsciously?</p><p>TOOMES: I just. </p><p>[PAUSE] </p><p>TOOMES: Who the hell else would drop him off? She’s a single parent. I didn’t notice anything!</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Are you certain, Mr. Toomes? </p><p>[PAUSE]  </p><p>INTERVIEWER: I’m asking you to think very hard, because you might have been the last person to have seen May Parker before her disappearance.</p><p>TOOMES: I didn’t see her.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: When was the last time you saw Peter Parker?</p><p>TOOMES: When I dropped him and Liz off at the Homecoming dance.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: What time was that?</p><p>TOOMES: I dunno. 7:30?</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Explain the circumstances, please.</p><p>TOOMES:...We were in my car. I told Liz to go ahead while I gave Peter a talk.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: A talk, Mr. Toomes? Can you clarify?</p><p>TOOMES: Dad-Talk. You know ‘hands above the waist’ stuff. I give all of Liz’s dates that talk. Gotta protect my little girl, I know how teenage boys are. I was one.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: I see. Can you give us more details about this talk? Did anything about Peter Parker catch your attention or seem out of place?</p><p> </p><p>The interview didn’t last very long after that.</p><p>After all, the last time he saw Peter Parker was when he was walking into the dance at Midtown Tech.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>[INTERVIEW WITH EDWARD LEEDS]</b>
</p><p>OCT 25 2016</p><p>---</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Mister Leeds, you were the last person to see Peter Parker, correct?</p><p>LEEDS: [NODS] I think so.</p><p>INTERVIEWER: Tell us about the last time you spoke to him.</p><p> </p><p>Ned took a breath and lied.</p><p> </p><p>He would keep Spider-Man a secret, it’s what Peter would want. Besides, if whoever took him and May already knew he was Spider-Man it might be better to make sure no one else did. Right? Ned didn’t know. He had no idea. He hoped.</p><p>He told them half truths, what he’d told Liz. That Peter had seemed really bothered, that he’d looked scared and told Ned that he had to ‘do something.’ He didn’t tell them that ‘something’ was ‘catch a villain.’</p><p>And no matter how hard he tried he wasn’t getting through to anyone that had to do with Iron Man. Ned was going to try again when he got home, this time much more aggressively. He didn’t care if he got in trouble, he would paint ‘SPIDER-MAN IS MISSING’ on Stark Tower if it came down to it.</p><p>No one knew Spider-Man was missing yet. You don’t put out ‘missing’ posters for superheroes with secret identities. But Tony Stark knew who Spider-Man was, he would know that it meant Peter and his aunt were missing.</p><p>And then Ned could tell them that it was Vulture, and that Peter’s phone had been tracked to an industrial yard in Brooklyn, but that his phone had then popped up at Midtown Tech again. Someone had planted it back at the school with the data all messed up.</p><p>Ned needed for Peter and May to be okay. He needed help, he needed someone else who knew the truth about Spider-Man because the Parkers weren’t just missing. They had been kidnapped by Vulture, Ned was sure of it.</p><p>But how had Vulture found out who Peter was? Why did they kidnap May? When did they kidnap her?</p><p>
  <em> Were they dead? </em>
</p><p><em> Stop it! </em> Ned snapped at himself. Not dead, they couldn’t be dead. Peter was Spider-Man for fuck’s sake. Spider-Man didn’t just...die. Peter couldn’t just die. He couldn’t.</p><p>But that feeling of fear that had hit him when they saw what happened to Delmar’s was expanding and gnawing at him. When he’d realized for the first time that what Peter did was actually really dangerous.</p><p>And May. May didn’t have any powers. She was just May. What if she was dead? Peter would...god what would even happen to Peter? He didn’t have any other family. She couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t fair, Peter had already lost three parents. There had to be a bad luck limit. Peter must have hit that already, it couldn’t take his aunt too.</p><p>Ned let none of these thoughts show on his face. Tried not to anyways. He couldn’t help tripping over his own words every other sentence, but if they thought it was suspicious or weird they didn’t say anything about it. </p><p>They didn’t push as much as Ned thought they would. He thought being the last person to see Peter would mean more, but it didn’t. </p><p>“Thank you for your time, Mr. Leeds.”</p><p>With that, Ned was sent on his merry way.</p><p>Instead of relief Ned just felt more pressured. He’d lied. To the police. The police who knew how to look for missing people but only if they actually got told the truth.</p><p>Had he kept Peter’s secret or did he sign the Parkers’ death certificate?</p><p><em> Please be okay, </em> Ned pleaded. <em> Please, please, be okay. </em></p><p>Ned didn’t want to be the person who killed his best friend.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>If Ned had thought the police were the only people who were going to demand answers from him today, he was wrong. </p><p>People kept asking him stuff, if he knew anything. Like gnats. Annoying and insistent. Throughout the day he ignored them, he was exhausted and worried. Ned was in a terrible mood, guilt so crushing it condensed his lack of sleep and frayed patience into a kernel of snappish temper. He brushed everyone off.</p><p>Until one.</p><p>“You know something,” Michelle accused, stepping closer to him. Ned took a step backward, surprised by both the comment and the intensity. The hallway was empty and Ned regretted deciding to linger around after the final bell.</p><p>The back of his backpack brushed up against some lockers.</p><p>He thought waiting for the crowds to clear out would mean he wouldn’t have to deal with anymore annoying questions. He’d thought wrong. Though Ned would hesitate to apply the word ‘annoying’ to Michelle. There were lots of words that could be used, but annoying wasn’t really one of them.</p><p>Normally, Ned wouldn’t be in such a snappy mood, but normally Peter wasn’t missing.</p><p>“What do you want, Michelle?”</p><p>Now it was her turn to be surprised, she lost the harsh edge she approached him with, anxious worry and shrewd eyes taking its place. “You know something,” she repeated, guarded, wary of him. “About Peter and his aunt.”</p><p>If she was going to repeat herself, then he would too. Ruder, this time.</p><p>“What do you <em> want? </em>” Her expression hardened, mouth opening to deliver what Ned expected to be a cutting retort, but she deflated, closing her mouth with a sigh. Ned immediately felt bad. “Sorry,” he muttered, shame curling in his gut.</p><p>“...Me too.” Ned watched as she set her jaw, something sharp flashing in her eyes again. “Peter was—He was acting really weird—” She stopped abruptly, looking at him. But when he didn’t speak she continued. “He disappeared all the time, you guys were always whispering to each other, he ran out of a school dance all freaked out and now he and his aunt are missing?”</p><p>“...Yeah?” Ned said, realizing she was waiting for him to reply. Michelle’s eyebrows creeped upwards, she made an encouraging ‘go on’ gesture with her hands. “What?”</p><p>“You know something,” she repeated. </p><p>“I think I was the last person to see him but—”</p><p>“I don’t mean that! I mean, like, in general,” it was supposed to be a statement, but her words tilted up with the uncertainty of a question at the end. </p><p>He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her to go away. Both at the same time, neither.</p><p>Ned wanted Peter and May to be okay.</p><p>He expected her to prod him again, the silence between them getting way too long to not be considered awkward. Instead, she waited. There was a nervous buzz of anticipation and eager worry charging the air in the meantime, but she waited.</p><p>Ned appreciated the time to think, the space. Because he needed help and didn’t know where to get it. He wouldn’t tell Peter’s secret, no way. That was off the table. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t get help. The whole thing looked weird no matter how you looked at it. Rumors were going wild.</p><p>Ned was getting crushed by guilt, and Michelle was cool. She wasn’t always great at being nice but she was...Michelle. And really smart, trustworthy. And Ned needed a friend right now. And help. So much help. Any help. He needed to find them, and to do that he needed <em> help </em>. Michelle could be that help, that friend. And Peter wasn’t here, so it was up to Ned alone to call the shots. </p><p>Instead of any of that, what came out of Ned’s mouth was, “I’m trying to get Iron Man’s help!”</p><p>“What.”</p><p>“Do you want to help me find them?” Ned asked, suddenly seized with the feverish hope that she’d agree. “There are—There are things I can’t tell you,<em> I can’t, </em> but you have to just trust me.” He took a breath. “But I seriously really <em> can’t </em> tell you some stuff. And things aren’t going to make sense but—”</p><p>“You can’t tell me,” she finished for him, perturbed, indecisive. But in the way that Ned thought looked like she was trying to talk herself out of something she’d already agreed to. Hope, the most positive thing he’s felt in days, burned small and bright in his chest. A sparkler.</p><p>“You could get in a lot of trouble,” Ned tacked on, realizing, remembering, that he was<em> lying to the police </em> and trying to somehow hack his way into getting Iron Man’s attention. He met her eyes, making his voice and expression as serious as he could make them. “Like. Jail trouble. Federal prison trouble.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Like <em> real actual trouble </em> trouble.” And then he remembered something else. Remembered May, specifically.</p><p>“And...And I don’t know if it’s <em> safe </em>. Like—Like what happened to them might…” He shook his head, getting back on track, and waited for her response.</p><p>“...You’re trying to find them?” Michelle asked lowly.</p><p>Ned nodded.</p><p>“This is...bigger than I thought it was, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He had no idea how big she thought it was and Ned also had no idea how big it actually was. Only that it was big enough to make the Parker family disappear. </p><p>“There are things you can’t tell me,” she began, listing off his warnings slowly, making sure she understood. Ned appreciated the forethought. “That you really, <em> really </em> can’t tell me. You’re doing some stuff that’s super illegal.” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“And this might be dangerous because you think whoever did this to Peter could maybe come after you, or anyone who helps you.” He nodded. “And for some reason you’re trying to get Tony Stark’s help.” Ned nodded again.</p><p>“Are you hurting anybody?”</p><p>“Wha-No.” The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Well, I hope…” He saw the alarm growing in her eyes and rushed to reassure her. “I’m scared that I’m hurting Peter and May by not doing this right! But I’m not like <em> hurting </em> people. I already...I already hurt them...”</p><p>Her eyebrows bunched together, a lock of hair falling in front of her face as she tilted her head. “You’re trying to find them,” she said, puzzled. Then it clicked. “Do you feel bad abou—This isn’t your fault, Ned! Just because you were the last person to see Peter? That’s not your fault.”</p><p>“You don’t know that,” he said firmly, guilt weighing him down further at Michelle’s show of faith. “You don’t know that. If you knew everything you wouldn’t think that.”</p><p>She frowned at him, thought after thought zooming around her head, behind her eyes. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. What if Michelle got hurt too?</p><p>“Don’t tell me what I think,” she shot back. “Why ask me for help, anyways? Why not someone else?”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>She didn’t look satisfied with that answer, he didn’t expect her to be.</p><p>“Because...you’re our friend too. And I need help. I don’t…” he trailed off.</p><p>“You said that in class too,” Michelle said, not unkindly. “‘I don’t’. What do you mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know what to<em> do </em>,” Ned confessed, anguished. Finally saying the sentence that had been stuck in his throat since Saturday. He looked up from the floor, meeting Michelle’s eyes. “I need help. You’re cool and smart and you care enough to ask me if I know something.”</p><p>The sight of the broken apartment door flashed in his mind.</p><p>“But I’m <em> serious, </em> Michelle. Think about it. This is...this is really bad, you could get hurt.”</p><p><em> Or worse, </em>he didn’t say.</p><p>She was staring at him, clutching the straps of her backpack. Her eyes scanning his face, Ned could almost see her weighing his words and his warnings, and her own curiosity.</p><p>“MJ,” she corrected. “My friends call me MJ.”</p><p>And like that Ned knew that she agreed to help him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Dad?” Liz asked. “Do you think Peter is okay?”</p><p>She clutched at her phone, worrying her lip.</p><p>“I don’t know, Liz.” He sighed. “I ran into Ms. Leeds after my interview with the cops, she said that about a week ago May had been going crazy trying to find Peter, and that it wasn’t the first time.”</p><p>“Peter was off these last few weeks,” Liz said, biting at her thumbnail. Thinking. Worried. “This whole thing is just<em> weird </em> though. Him and his aunt. The way he ran out of the dance, and Ned told me their apartment was trashed. I just don’t get what could have happened to them.” She shifted her cell to her other ear. “And you said his aunt was worried last week? When Peter left he looked like he was freaking out. Doesn’t that mean maybe they knew something was going to happen?”</p><p>“...I think that it sounds like maybe he got into something he shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound like Peter though!” Liz exclaimed before falling quiet.</p><p>“You really never know with these things, sweetie,” he suggested gently. “People...They aren’t always who you think they are.” </p><p>“But it’s <em> Peter </em>. It doesn't make sense to me.” She thought for a bit, then spoke again. “You call his aunt by her first name, do you know her?”</p><p>“A little bit. You know all that junk I do for your team-thing,” he grumbled good naturedly, Liz gave a subdued chuckle. “We chatted a couple of times. She gave me an advil once.”</p><p>“Oh.” After a moment she spoke again. “Rumors at school are really crazy. People are worried that Peter might have gotten kidnapped on campus.”</p><p>“I mean, he could have been,” he pointed out. “But the cops told your principal not to worry, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she answered slowly. “But still.”</p><p>The line was silent for a few moments, both lost in thought.</p><p>“Elizabeth.” Liz straightened, eyes widening and a shock of alarm going through her at the use of her full first name. “I don’t...I have a bad feeling about this whole thing with the Parkers. I think maybe you should be ready for…,” he trailed off meaningfully.</p><p>“...For the worst?” she guessed, soft and apprehensive.</p><p>“Yeah,” he confirmed gently. “The worst.”</p><p>From inside his parked car, he looked through the windshield, at the warehouse. </p><p>The unassuming building housed so many secrets, it looked like every other slightly run-down building in the industrial yard.</p><p>“I just...Dad I don’t want to think like that. I have to hope for the best, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” he said, opening the car door. “I’ve got to go. Take care of yourself. I love you, gumdrop. So much.”</p><p>“I love you too, Dad.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Toomes: making my way downtown, walking fast<br/>Police: sir when was the last time you saw the Parkers<br/>Toomes: walking faster<br/>(actual note to myself when writing the chapter, I think I'm funny)</p><p>Timeline:<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; at undetermined time May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fails, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz briefly talk in the office<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help</p><p>Ned and MJ did not originally have such big parts in the fic. But I felt bad for Ned, so I decided he needed a friend. I lost control from there. </p><p>So, I’m not going to promise an update in a week. But I’ll try, things are going on. My academic life and mental health are in shambles. Which, while not completely unusual, are never pleasant. Thank you SO MUCH for your kind comments! They've been really helpful as motivation to keep posting and also just generally nice things to re-read with all the stuff going on with me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. No Matter Where You Are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>MJ isn't sure what she just got herself into.</p><p> </p><p>Peter has too much time to think.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from “Find You” Ruelle (because I’m creative like that)</p><p>Early update because I finished the chapter and I’m impatient. Also I'm sick of staring at it, I've edited it a hundred times.<br/>We finally get to see a little of what our Spidey boy has been up to.<br/>There's so many things I can't wait to get to!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> "My friends call me MJ." </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You haven’t told me why you think Stark would care so much,” MJ points out.</p><p>After agreeing to help Ned they had relocated from the hallway to an empty classroom so they could continue talking in private. Ned hadn’t sat down, so MJ didn’t either.</p><p>“Peter is his intern.”</p><p>“Was. He lost it. I remember he said he lost it.”</p><p>“Yeah, he did,” Ned agreed, a strange note of bitterness in his words. It was weird to hear it, MJ had never heard Ned be bitter. During AcaDeca competitions he was a graceful loser and a gracious winner. He got annoyed at people, sure, but bitter? It was new to her.</p><p>“How is Stark going to even help here?” MJ didn’t doubt he could, a lot of problems could be helped by throwing money at the right people. She inwardly scowled at the thought.</p><p>“Because the same person who stole from his plane is the one that took Peter and May.”</p><p>MJ made a sound, then fell silent. Shocked.</p><p>“What? Ned, why would you—<em> You know who took them!? </em>” She was nearly yelling by the end.</p><p>He didn’t say anything.</p><p>“Ned,” she said hollowly. Staring and feeling a chill sweep over her. Desperate. “Ned. Tell me that you don’t actually know. Tell me that you didn’t lie to the cops about who kidnapped Peter and his aunt!”</p><p>“I don’t!” he interrupted, yelling over her. He met her eye only long enough for a quick glare before looking away again. “I don’t, okay?! Not...Not exactly.”</p><p>“What do you mean ‘not exactly’!?” Her voice was creeping into the ‘shrill’ category.</p><p>“I mean I don’t have a name! I don’t have a face! Or a description or—or a car or age or—I don’t have <em> anything! </em>” he was angry, but not at her. He was angry at himself.</p><p>“You have something,” she pushed, still feeling jumpy at the idea that Ned knew something so important about what had happened to the Parkers. </p><p>Ned didn’t say anything, silence tense and heavy between them. Ned’s exhausted expression mulish and anguished. </p><p>“We’re partners,” she reminded him. “If you want my help you have to<em> let me </em> help.”</p><p>“I know,” he was quick to say, just shy of annoyed. “I know, okay? Give me a sec.”</p><p>MJ did as he asked, wondering just what the hell Ned and Peter had gotten themselves into. Wondering what she had just gotten<em> herself </em>into.</p><p>“...Did you see the news when the ferry was cut in half?”</p><p>“...Yeah?” MJ said, puzzled by the non-sequitur.</p><p>“Him.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The freaky guy with the metal wings. It was him. Or his gang. I don’t know. It was him. I know it was him.”</p><p>“The guy people are calling Vulture?” she asked, making sure. “That guy? What does he have to do with Peter?” She was getting more confused by the second. If she didn’t know Ned she would almost think he was making something up in response to his best friend going missing.</p><p>“Vulture is selling weapons, <em>alien</em> weapons. Peter...Peter got into something he shouldn’t have when he was working for Tony Stark,” Ned explained haltingly. “He got involved and that’s why he lost the Stark internship.”</p><p>“Why was Stark leaving Avenger stuff lying around?” MJ asked, frowning.</p><p>“It wasn’t Avenger stuff,” Ned corrected, shaking his head, “that’s one of the reasons Peter thought he needed to look into it. Those alien guns were showing up on the streets but…”</p><p>“Illegal guns aren’t important enough for Iron Man,” she finished for him. “FBI, not Avengers.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he licked his lips, mind racing to think of how to explain, but not tell, MJ what had happened. “Stark told Peter to butt out, but he didn’t. So he lost the internship. But I guess Peter figured out something important Homecoming night, because he decided to go after him.”</p><p>“Him? Vulture?” She asked, just to be sure. Ned nodded. “Why then?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Ned admitted, “that’s one of things bugging me.” He fiddled with his phone. “Anyways, I guess Vulture found him out. I don’t know when or why they took May.” He grimaced. “Well, actually, I think I know why.”</p><p>“She knew too?”</p><p>He shook his head. </p><p>“She didn’t.” he said. Certain. “They probably took her as a hostage. Peter was super really strict about not telling her. He said he didn’t want her to freak out.”</p><p>“Why would she freak out when teenage idiots go after criminals with metal wings?” MJ asked, the sarcasm coming out in response to her nerves. Inwardly she winced, already feeling a little bad. “You should have told her, Peter should have told her. You guys shouldn't have gotten involved with this.”</p><p>“Michelle—”</p><p>“MJ,” she corrected absently.</p><p>"I know," he admitted. "Like, if I could go back in time I would tell her, but we didn't. Peter said he didn't want to freak her out after what happened with his uncle. Ever since Ben died Peter tries really hard not to worry her." He pursed his lips. "He's not super good at it."</p><p>“...It’s one of those ‘I can’t tell you’ things isn’t it,” she said after a moment. Ned nodded. “You...You know them really well, don’t you?” He didn’t answer, shrugging, picking at the edge of his shirt. MJ adjusted her backpack. “How long?”</p><p>“Since fourth grade. So like six years.” Ned looked up. “I can just show up and May will let me in even if Peter isn’t there. She’s cool.” He sighed. “It’s just Peter and May, they don’t have any other family.”</p><p>Michelle had seen May Parker around a few times, mostly during AcaDeca things. In a chorus of ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ Peter’s call of ‘aunt’ had naturally been a notable difference. She remembers the first few times thinking that she was just there because Peter’s parents couldn’t make it. She doesn’t remember who told her or how she found out that Peter was an orphan, but she did and that’s when MJ realized that Peter’s aunt might be the only family he had to show up to anything. It was through the rumour mill that Michelle found out his uncle had died too.</p><p>She knows Peter would probably be annoyed if he ever found out but, for a while, she had felt bad for him. She still kinda did.</p><p>“Okay, so you think Vulture kidnapped them?” she asked, getting back on track.</p><p>“I know he did,” Ned said firmly. “Peter even told me that’s who he was going after.”</p><p>“...The dance,” MJ remembered. “You followed Peter. You talked to him?”</p><p>Ned looked away, suddenly guilty. “Yeah, I did.” He told her about Peter using his phone as a tracker, and about Peter tracking the bad guy to a Brooklyn industrial yard.</p><p>The story was edited, but Ned wasn’t lying to her. Any time she asked for a detail and it was a ‘I can’t tell you’ thing he’d tell her straight up. MJ appreciated it, even if the holes in the story made it look like cheese to her. At least now she understood why Ned felt so guilty.</p><p>Peter had been involved in tipping the FBI off about the ferry, he’d lost the internship because he got into things he shouldn’t have. He, somehow, got his phone somewhere where it could track the bad guys. Peter had figured out Vulture was going to rob the Avengers plane and had tried to stop him. He’d failed and now the Parkers were missing.</p><p>MJ didn’t know why Ned couldn’t say any of this to the police.</p><p>She had tried to get Ned to budge on that, but it was firmly in the ‘I can’t tell you’ category no matter how many times she asked.</p><p>“Can you tell me <em> why </em>you can’t tell me?”</p><p>He thought about it. “It’s Peter’s secret,” he said eventually, choosing his words carefully. “He doesn’t want anyone to know. No one can know.”</p><p>Instead of making anything clearer, it just confused the hell out of her.</p><p>But now Michelle knew more than the cops. It felt heavy, a lead weight settling somewhere in the back of her throat and sinking down to her chest. But she’s the one who had pushed, who had agreed.</p><p>“Okay,” she said at the end of it, thoughts whirring. She tightened her white knuckled grip on the straps of her backpack. She released a long breath slowly. “You’re sure, super sure, that you can’t tell the police any of this?”</p><p>"I'm sure."</p><p>He was serious. Determined. She had never seen such a hard look on Ned's face before, it made him look older than he was.</p><p>The unspoken <em> and you can’t either, </em> hung in the air. </p><p>He had decided to trust her, now Michelle had to decide if she trusted Ned.</p><p>She wrestled with that for a few moments, part of her wanted to just run to the police and tell them what Ned had told her. Wanted it to be the missing puzzle piece that would find Peter and his aunt. But it couldn’t be that simple, Ned had his reasons.</p><p>Michelle bit her lip, staring at the ground as she considered everything Ned had told her.</p><p>Did she trust those reasons, reasons she didn’t even know, enough to keep everything a secret too?</p><p>Ned cared about the Parkers, maybe more than anyone else, and if he was still keeping whatever secret it was to himself then Michelle had to trust him, trust his judgement, that it was worth it.</p><p>Michelle looked up from the tiles, Ned was already watching her, she had felt the weight of his stare. She met Ned’s eyes squarely, brown to brown. <em> He knew, </em> she thought. He knew what she was considering, knew that she was thinking about going to the cops, but he didn’t say anything. The silence was tense, Ned waiting for her to make her decision.</p><p>Ned had trusted her, so now Michelle was going to trust him.</p><p>“Alright,” she swallowed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, despite not having moved she felt like she had just finished running a lap around the track. “Alright,” she repeated, nodding. “I believe you.”</p><p>The relief on Ned’s face was so stark that it squeezed at her heart. He blinked a few times, MJ pretended not to notice his glassy eyes. Ned had thought she could help with this. She wondered how he had figured that, because she wasn’t so sure, but she was going to try.</p><p>“The metadata on Peter’s cell didn’t tell me anything," he said, his tone a mixture of misery and frustration. Ned was exhausted from carrying it all, she knew just by the bags under his eyes that he hadn’t been sleeping. “It ended up back at school. I know Vulture stole from the jet, but even S.I. hasn't found the leak yet. They don't know where or who he is! I can't get through to Tony Stark, and I can't find Vulture. I don't know what to do.” </p><p>“Is the reason you're trying to call Iron Man because he knows about the ‘I can’t tell you’ thing?”</p><p>"Well, yeah. And it was his plane that Vulture stole from. It's connected." He shrugged, miserable about his failure to get through to anyone.</p><p>Something in her clicked firmly into place. Suddenly MJ knew what to do, what they had to do.</p><p>“Forget about Stark,” she snapped, voice much firmer than she felt. </p><p>“What?” Ned asked, surprised at both the statement and her tone.</p><p>“Keep trying to get through to him. But do you want to sit around and wait for him to pick up the phone?” she asked. "If the Vulture-guy stole from his plane then Stark is already looking for him. Even if they don't know it's Vulture, specifically, they're still looking." Ned nodded warily, not understanding where she was going.</p><p>"So let Stark look for Vulture, we are going to look for the <em>Parkers</em>."</p><p>"Isn't that the same thing?"</p><p>“No," she replied, the longer she thought about the more convinced she was that it was the right thing to do. "We need missing person flyers, social media, news stations. Someone might know something. They don’t have any family to do it for them, so we need to!”</p><p>Ned blinked, taken aback by her sudden passion.</p><p>“And you know more than anyone, so...You said Peter’s phone was in Brooklyn, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Ned nodded, not following.</p><p>“We can start there.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Peter grunted with effort, fingers slipping on the metal of the sink spout as he used all his strength to pull. He tried to place his foot against the wall for help, almost toppling when the chain connecting his ankles wouldn’t let him. He muttered a curse, readjusting his grip and pulled again.</p><p>He bit down on a yell when his grip slipped, the edge of the spout scraping against his fingers painfully as he fell backwards. Unable to really catch himself with his chained hands the air was knocked out of him. It left his back smarting from the fall. Glaring at the concrete ceiling Peter concluded that the sink was not going to be his key to freedom.</p><p>The first few times he’d been allowed the ‘freedom’ to use the bathroom Peter had been in too much shock to even think about doing anything. In fact the first thing he’d done was try to wash the blood—<em> May’s blood </em>—off of where it had gotten on him. It was on his hands and it had soaked into the knees and shins of his pants from when he’d been forced to kneel in the van.</p><p>As of now the dark red stains now looked rusty-brown. Peter tried to pretend they weren’t there and that he didn’t know where it was from. Tried very, very hard, not to think about how he had to wash Ben's blood off of his hands and now he was washing off May's. The blood of the two people he loved most in the entire world, the two people who had raised him. Peter literally had his family's blood on his hands.</p><p>Peter didn't think about it. If he did he might scream.</p><p>By Peter’s estimate it had been maybe three and a half days. <em> Maybe. </em> There were no windows, no clocks. No schedule for these little bathroom breaks or the water or anything they gave him to eat. The lights in the room he was kept in weren’t on unless someone else came in. When he slept he didn’t know when or for how long. Time had lost meaning. He just knew that he needed a shower and that if he kept trying to keep track of time he was going to lose his mind.</p><p>He had time to get his head on straight, panic again, then calm down. Again. </p><p>Peter had considered fighting when he was allowed out of the room but the threat of a 'bullet through your aunt's skull' kept him from actually trying anything. If he did do something it had to be a full proof plan, it had to be worth the risk and right now he doesn't even know where May is. What was it that Ben used to say? If you pick a fight, pick one you're going to win.</p><p>He’d raged in his little room and absolutely shredded the skin of his wrists in the process. The bruises and burns from the friction of the chains made a colorful display on his skin and Peter was shocked to discover just how reliant, how used to, super healing he’d become.</p><p>It wasn’t that he was unused to pain. Quite the opposite, Peter had slammed into more than his fair share of brick walls when learning how to web-swing, but he wasn’t used to the pain sticking around. Not anymore. And Peter had definitely forgotten the feeling of injuries accumulating and lingering over time. When he’d woken up with burning, aching wrists he’d been shocked by the sensation.</p><p>Ever since the spider bite Peter could wake up expecting even the most severe injuries from the day before to be significantly more healed. Now he moved wrong and the pitiful scabs he’d managed to accumulate all broke open, renewing the stinging pain and setting back the little healing he had gotten done. And just to drive him more crazy they were all incredibly itchy.</p><p>Getting on his hands and knees Peter looked around the bathroom again. Eyes sweeping the tiny room, hoping he’d missed something. He crawled towards the sink, wrapping his hands around the pipe he found underneath.</p><p>It was just as loose as the spout had been. Not at all.</p><p>He sat back, frustrated and wanting to hit something. If he had even a little bit of his powers it would be easy. If he had all of his powers he’d be worrying about breaking the sink on accident.</p><p>But he didn’t have his powers, and the stupid power sapping bracelet thing had practically melded to his skin. The second he’d been alone after being taken Peter had tried to rip it off, but he couldn’t. It didn’t even feel like a cuff or a bracelet, it was fusing to him, which looked disgusting, but it also meant he couldn’t even hope to slip it off. He took a moment to glare at the little gray-purple thing wrapped around his wrist. It was so small, barely the width of his finger, but it was the entire reason Peter couldn't break out.</p><p>Peter clenched his jaw, getting to his feet and looking around the bathroom again.</p><p>Out of some desperate stupid hope he laid his hand against a wall, willing it to stick. When it didn’t he slapped his open hand against it, palm aching, pain signals racing from his hand all the way up his arm.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>His powers were completely gone. No strength, no stickiness, no enhanced senses, no healing, even his appetite had gone back to pre-spider bite levels. He was absolutely normal. No Spider-Man, just Peter Parker.</p><p>Peter jumped at the sound of banging on the door.</p><p>“Thirty seconds!” The man acting as his escort barked.</p><p>He glared at the door, then desperately looked around the room again, hoping for inspiration to strike.</p><p>Concrete floor, concrete walls. Sink with a solidly attached spout. Roll of toilet paper. Soap dispenser. He might be able to break that, it was made of plastic. Plastic shards could be sharp…</p><p>“Fifteen!”</p><p>Frustration and worry burning a hole through his stomach Peter stepped towards the door, lifting his hand to push it open only to freeze.</p><p>His breath caught and Peter stared. It was faint, and tiny, but there. On the door.</p><p>On the painted gray of the metal there was a tiny smear, a streak, of brownish red. Peter put his hand against the door. He released a shaky breath, something like relief clogging his throat.</p><p>His thumb lined up with it, it was the type of mark someone of his height, of <em> May’s </em> height, would leave on the door when pushing it open if they had blood on their hands and were chained up in a way that they couldn't lift their hands very high. Chained up just like Peter was.</p><p><em> May was here! </em> Peter thought, almost giddy. His heart was pounding in his chest now, adrenaline burning through him. Peter felt more energized, more clear headed and hopeful, than he has since before this all started.</p><p>It had to be her. A smear of blood on the door to this stupid little bathroom in Vulture’s villain lair basement couldn’t belong to anyone else. </p><p>Well, a rational part of him interjected, it could, but the odds were slim and Peter needed to believe that it was his aunt. Because that meant she was alive, right?</p><p>Almost reverently, Peter brushed his thumb over the mark, it might have been his imagination but he could feel the slight texture of it in the grooves of his thumbprint. It was the first tangible sign of Aunt May he’d seen since getting captured.</p><p>It was such a little but incredibly significant thing, his heart squeezed in his chest as he rested his thumb over it. Like he could reach for her hand through blood and time.</p><p>Peter whirled around, scanning the bathroom with new eyes. The sink wasn’t grimy, the floor wasn’t scuffed or dirty. Everything was clean. The toilet paper roll was almost whole, the soap dispenser was full.</p><p>This wasn’t a bathroom that was used often.</p><p>Which means that there was a good chance that the only people who did use it were him and May. He hoped so, anyways.</p><p>Quickly Peter scratched at his wrist, one of the barely forming scabs ripping off his skin with a static sting. It wasn’t bleeding fast enough. With a low growl Peter clawed at his entire wrist, ignoring the sharp searing pain of reopened wounds and the chains. Desperation and impatience mixed with worry and hope, it all buzzed underneath Peter’s skin as he gathered up the blood with fingers that trembled with excitement.</p><p>If they were bringing May to this bathroom then that meant Peter could leave a message!</p><p>“Ten!”</p><p>
  <em> Fuck! </em>
</p><p>Not on the door, Peter thought frantically, they could see it when it opened. But what about on the wall next to it?</p><p>What should he put!? Ten seconds! What’s the most important thing that he could write for May? If May left him a message what would Peter want to see the most?</p><p>
  <em> 5....4...3...2... </em>
</p><p>The man yanked the door open, barely stopping himself from ramming into Peter when he almost took a step into the bathroom only to find Peter right behind the door. </p><p>Chris was what he’d called himself when Peter had asked. He looked annoyed.</p><p>“Did you fall into the toilet?”</p><p><em> Did you fall on your head? </em> Peter wanted to snark back, but he held it in. Barely.</p><p>"I was taking a dump."</p><p>Peter stared at him, Chris stared back.</p><p>Compared to the other guy (Mike? Something like that), Chris was stricter about the time he was allowed in the bathroom. He was grumpier too. Never in his life does Peter think he’d ever been so conscious of the expression on his face. Never had he tried so hard to make it look innocent.</p><p>"Don't be a smartass."</p><p>Thankfully that was all, he didn’t notice the reopened wounds on Peter's wrist or the blood on his fingers that he was discreetly trying to wipe on his pants. If he did notice he didn't care.</p><p>“Come on,” the man urged with an impatient frown, completely ignorant to the knots that Peter’s stomach had twisted into. He was gesturing his head in the direction of Peter’s prison. Peter had to walk in front of him, that was how things were done with these little ‘breaks.’</p><p>Like everything else Peter hated it. Hated the creepy-crawly feeling he got up and down his back from having a bad guy walk behind him when Peter knew he had a hand on a gun.</p><p>He waited until they were further down the hallway, about halfway back to the room they’d been keeping him. Then, just as they passed one of the doors, he spoke.</p><p>“Where’s my aunt?” Peter asked loudly.</p><p>“Stop asking.”</p><p>Peter stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “No! Where is she!? Let me see her!”</p><p>A hand shoved him right between his shoulder blades, making Peter stumble forward. “Keep moving!”</p><p>Peter grumbled but complied.</p><p>He had no reason to think that the door they passed wasn’t just an empty room, but he still hoped that it could not be empty. Could hope May was there and could maybe hear him if he spoke loud enough.</p><p>Peter had no idea if May was alright. The faint smear of blood on the bathroom door was his only sign, but it told him three very important things.</p><ol>
<li>May was conscious</li>
<li>She was well enough to move, probably</li>
<li>She was, or had been, bleeding</li>
</ol><p> The image of her bloody and unconscious burned into his eyelids and haunted him every waking second. When he was asleep, fitful as it was, the images were worse. Combining with his memories of Ben and with every other gorey detail his brain could think of. Complete with Vulture’s voice asking ‘<em> how could you do this to her, Peter? </em>’</p><p>Vulture's voice grated, and Peter spent a lot of time thinking about how much he hated him.</p><p>Even if he wasn’t so physically uncomfortable Peter doubted he’d be able to sleep much. He was desperate to see May, desperate to know what was going to happen to them.</p><p>Too soon Peter found himself back in the room he hated nearly as much as he hated Vulture. The room went pitch black as soon as the doors closed. Hands chained behind his back along with his ankles, the chain bolted to the floor to keep him there. Peter kept hoping his body would get used to the position so it wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, but so far it hadn’t happened. Part of Peter was disgusted that he was hoping to get accustomed to being chained down. </p><p>The second the door closed he tried, again, to pull himself free. Nothing.</p><p>There had to be a way out of this, there <em> had to. </em>He just needed to figure it out.</p><p>Peter had to escape, and he had to find May. Had to get to her and make sure she was alright and then they could get out. And maybe Peter could rip out Vulture's spine on the way.</p><p>It was so hard to focus on escape when Peter couldn’t stop thinking about May. Couldn't stop thinking about what Vulture might be doing to her, if he was hurting her more. He was scared for her and he missed her and he needed to see her. Needed to see that she was okay and not dead. Peter wanted to tell her sorry because this wouldn’t have happened if he was better.</p><p>A part of him wanted a hug. It was a selfish part that still dared to ache for the comfort of her arms even after what he’d done, but he couldn’t shove it down. He was afraid and tired and hurt. A few hours into his imprisonment Peter had realized that this was the first time in his life that he’d felt so terrible and not had May’s comfort to soothe him.</p><p>No matter what, his entire life, Peter had always had May and now he doesn’t.</p><p>For every scraped knee, for every instance of being teased, for every late night of homework and every fever, May had always, always been there. If he called for her, she answered.</p><p>Ben had been too, it had taken death itself to keep him from being there, but the fact is that now he wasn’t. Now it was just May, and now she <em> couldn’t </em> be here for him, because of Peter.</p><p>Even when their family had been torn apart by his uncle’s murder, May had been there for Peter. Through the agony he knows was her own grief she had still held him, had still helped Peter wash Ben’s blood out from under his nails. And she had held him and had stroked his hair and rocked him, humming a mangled lullaby because she couldn’t even talk through her own tears but May had been there and let Peter wail his heart out because his father had died in his arms and it had <em> hurt so much </em>.</p><p>It still hurt. Right now, chains around his wrists and sitting in the dark in the room that served as his cage, it still hurt. A scar Peter knew he would always carry, ragged and deep with guilt.</p><p>Remembering it all now, realizing he had taken something as precious as May’s presence for granted, hurt. It burned deep in his soul, because after Ben died Peter should know better than that. Should know that these things can be taken away as quickly as the flash of a gun’s muzzle.</p><p>He had too much time to think when he was sitting alone in his prison. Too much time to hate himself for all of his mistakes. Hate himself for pushing May away in the name of keeping Spider-Man a secret. Peter had torn himself apart and rearranged the pieces to make Spider-Man, because Peter Parker had let Ben die and he didn’t want to be him anymore.</p><p>Somewhere in that process maybe he’d forgotten about May, or had stopped paying attention beyond just ‘keep her from finding out.’ It hadn’t started that way. At first he didn’t tell her because he was scared.</p><p>Scared and guilty. Peter had his powers already when Ben had died, he’d only had them for a few days but <em> he had them </em>. Peter had sensed that something bad was going to happen. The strange precognition that made the hair all over his body stand on end, the buzzing awareness of not right that Peter was still figuring out.</p><p>Peter had sensed the danger. Peter was more than strong enough to push someone out of the way of a bullet. Peter was more than fast enough to do it with time to spare. Peter had enhanced healing and could survive things that normal people couldn’t.</p><p>Peter had frozen.</p><p>Ben hadn’t.</p><p>A man had taken a bullet meant for him and Peter was too ashamed, too much of a coward, to tell that man’s widow that not only had Ben died for him but that <em> Peter could have saved him. </em></p><p>May would never blame him. Rationally, Peter knew that. But part of him was still afraid that she might. He was so ashamed, so guilty, and he didn't want May to look at him differently. Peter knew it was stupid but he couldn’t stop it. It was just one more thing on top of the hundreds of other reasons. Reasons that ranged from ‘I killed Ben’ to ‘Spider-man is fun and I don’t want you to stop me.'</p><p>This is where it had gotten them. He’d been too confident in his flimsy mask.</p><p>Peter was living his worst nightmare, captured, powerless, and<em> not </em>alone.</p><p>The image of May’s unconscious body flashed in his mind’s eye again, he clenched his jaw.</p><p>
  <em> Your fault. Just like with Ben. </em>
</p><p>She had to suddenly adopt him because his parents died, when Peter was pretty sure she and Ben hadn't wanted kids. He killed her husband. And now it was his fault that Vulture had hurt and kidnapped her.</p><p>May had never done anything except love him and in return Peter had ruined, and possibly ended, her life.</p><p>Yet, Peter still ached to hear May tell him it would be alright.</p><p> </p><p>Peter didn't save Uncle Ben, but he was going to save Aunt May.</p><p>He had decided that, and he was going to do it or die trying. He had to.</p><p>Peter just had to figure out how.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Operation "Find the Parkers" is officially a go!  MJ and Ned are on the case. MJ is really hoping she isn't going to regret this later.<br/>Did Peter just spend a good chunk of this chapter in the bathroom? Yes. Yes, he did.</p><p>Even though this chapter is early I seriously cannot promise a consistent update schedule. I don't know, I am completely at the mercy of my executive dysfunction and it's whims. But I did just figure some stuff out for this fic, so maybe I'll write faster.<br/>Next chapter (as of this moment) is more Peter.</p><p>https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Don't Cry Mercy (there's too much pain to come)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter isn't sure why Vulture wants to talk to him, but he does know that he won't like it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from "Mercy" by Hurts<br/>I hate this chapter. I had to rewrite it *checks notes* 3.5 times and I'm still not completely happy with it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By Peter’s estimate it’s the next day (maybe) before anything more interesting than an unbearable itch on his nose that he can’t scratch except on the floor happens.</p><p>The door opens. Peter blinks at the sudden light, glaring even as he squints against the harsh brightness. A spike of anger immediately puts all of his senses on high alert as he registers who it is.</p><p>Vulture walks in, holding a fold up chair that he sets down about five feet in front of where Peter is glaring at him. </p><p>Peter feels oddly offended that Vulture would come into his prison and then take a seat. Like this was a picnic table and not Peter’s idea of hell.</p><p>Vulture doesn’t speak, blue eyes watching Peter with a thoughtful frown on his face.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Peter bites out, not able to stand the silence anymore.</p><p>Annoyance crosses Vulture’s face. </p><p>“Thought you might want to know how May is doing,” he said, agitated and clearly warning Peter of his position. Peter looks up sharply. “But I can leave.” </p><p>He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, coolly looking down at Peter. Waiting.</p><p>With the mention of May, and the possibility of information about her, Peter’s heart skips a beat with anticipation and renewed guilt. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Vulture’s information, but it was something.</p><p>“Want me to leave, Pete?” </p><p>He scowled, of course he didn’t. He was desperate for any news on his aunt, Vulture knew that. It takes Peter a few tries to swallow down his pride and anger so he can speak.</p><p>“No,” he forces out through grit teeth.</p><p>Vulture nods slowly, ‘yeah, I thought so’ in every line of the movement.</p><p>“She’s not a vegetable,” he said bluntly. “And it’s been a few days so if she was going to drop dead of a brain bleed it probably would have happened already.” </p><p>A band of terror wrapped around his chest and throat, squeezing so tightly that Peter could hardly breathe, but then relief quickly follows. To hear the possibility of May having something like bleeding in her brain, something Peter hadn’t even considered, scared the shit out of him. Even if it was only mentioned as having not happened.</p><p>He’d seen the blood in the bathroom, he knew that she was awake, but hearing Vulture confirm it was different. </p><p>
  <em> Is that why Vulture waited so long to talk to me? </em>
</p><p>The question is almost random, Peter wonders where it came from. But giving it a moment of thought...Had Vulture wanted to make sure of May’s condition before talking to Peter about it? In a really screwed up way that seemed bizarrely considerate.</p><p>Then he catches the other part of the sentence. <em> Days? </em>Peter guessed a “few days” meant more than two, but time all blended together. His latest trip to the bathroom, because of his message, is the only marker Peter has. He didn’t know how long ago that was though. Hours. A full night? He had slept at some point.</p><p>“Where is she?” Peter hates how young he sounds. He wonders if Vulture heard the underlying helplessness in the words, he hopes not.</p><p>“Around.”</p><p>Peter scowls at the non-answer. He doesn’t say anything else and Peter’s annoyance flares. Vulture doesn’t move to leave and Peter braces himself, wondering what else he wanted.</p><p>Vulture seemed strangely calm. And not in the composed sharp way he had been at the industrial yard. Relaxed, Peter realized. Vulture wasn’t on his guard.</p><p><em> I’m not a threat anymore, </em> he thought sourly. No wonder his demeanor had changed. Peter had been completely neutralized and Vulture knew it.</p><p>“I didn’t tell May about Spider-Man,” Vulture told him. “She wouldn’t believe it from me.”</p><p>Peter, swallowed, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.</p><p>He wanted Spider-Man to stay a secret, especially from May. And if she did ever find out Peter wanted her to hear it from his mouth, not Vulture’s. A shameful little part of him is relieved that she still doesn’t know.</p><p>“Does she even know I’m here?” Peter asked, frustration a tight ball in his stomach. He hated talking to Vulture. Hated asking him for anything even more. It was humiliating.</p><p>But it was a question that he’s been wondering about ever since he was chained up. Vulture had said that she didn’t know anything, but that was Friday night. What about now? </p><p>Had she heard him in the hallway? And if she had was that how she found out he was here? He didn’t want to think that it was, because he can’t imagine how she would have reacted to that.</p><p>“Yes,” Vulture replied, settling more comfortably in his seat. “First thing I told her.” His eyes hardened. “Just like with you, it keeps her in-line. Better for all of us.”</p><p>Of course that was the reason, Peter thought bitterly.</p><p>“Let me see her!”</p><p>“No,” he says simply. Then he moves on. ”Besides, May deserves to know what’s going on with her kid, and why she’s here.”</p><p>“You hurt her!”</p><p><em> “Because I had to,</em>” he said sharply. “May only got hurt because she fought back too hard.”</p><p>“Yeah, <em> right— </em>” Toomes ignored the interruption.</p><p>“She hasn’t been touched since.” Blue eyes narrowed, a flinty anger appearing on his face. “And neither have you.” He gave a quick, meaningful glance at Peter, head to toe.</p><p>“If I wanted either of you dead you’d already be dead.”</p><p>“What?” Peter spat, remembering their conversation in the car. “Do you want me to say ‘<em>thank you? </em>’”</p><p>“You should,” Vulture said sharply. He was getting ticked off. “I could have just shot both of you. And do you have any idea how many people would love to get their hands on you, ‘<em>Spider-Man’ </em>?” he says his alias in a mocking tone.</p><p>Peter’s eyes widened, he hadn’t thought of that.</p><p>“As for May? Could have just shot her the second we had you,” he said darkly. Peter breathes in sharply, rage and fear a tangled ball in his chest. “That would have been a waste, though.” He scoffed. “Tell me, does she have both her kidneys? Any heart problems?”</p><p>“Stop screwing with me!” Peter yells over the last question. Unable to keep his outrage to himself. “Where’s May!?”</p><p>Peter doesn’t think he’d ever wanted to punch <em> through </em> someone before. Vulture wouldn’t have any kidneys when Peter was done with him.</p><p>“I’m telling you the truth,” Vulture snapped, ignoring his question. “You’re young, you don’t see the big picture.” He looked at the wall behind Peter for a moment, tsking. The gesture, bizarrely, reminded Peter of a teacher losing patience with the class. “Even after it blew up in your face.”</p><p>“I see just fine!” Peter couldn’t believe Vulture of all people was trying to lecture him. It irked. “You hurt my aunt!”</p><p>“You and her didn’t have to be here,” Vulture reminded him coldly. “You got involved after I gave you a warning,” he said, eyes flinty as he looked down at Peter, “because you felt like you had to. I did this because I had to. We both did what we needed to, Peter.” </p><p>His wrist burned as Peter tugged at the restraints, he glared at Vulture, hoping the man could see his rage. If only looks could kill.</p><p>“I’ve been in the underground of this city for years. You’re lucky it was me who caught you,” Vulture said bluntly. “If you’d messed with someone else you and May would be rotting in a landfill.”</p><p>“So nice of you,” Peter bit out sarcastically before he could think better of it. “We’re going to be reported missing,” he continued confidently. “You’re the one who’s going to get caught, Vulture!”</p><p>“You’re already missing,” Toomes said, unconcerned, stunning Peter. “The cops interviewed me and Liz about it. And your friend. Ted? Something like that.”</p><p>Peter stiffened, swallowing as his mouth suddenly went dry and the blood drained from his face. <em> Ned. </em> </p><p>
  <em> Did Vulture know about Ned? </em>
</p><p>“They interviewed you?” Peter asked, too surprised to keep the words back.</p><p>“I was one of the last people to see you, Pete,” Toomes said with a nod. Where Peter would have expected amusement there was instead a tense sort of annoyance. “Apparently I was the last person to see May too. Might have been, anyways. She is the one who dropped you off at the house, right? I wasn’t paying attention.”</p><p>Peter didn’t reply, trying to process and imagine what Vulture getting interviewed by the cops had looked like. What a joke. They had asked the guy who kidnapped them for help finding them?</p><p>But, to his immense relief, Vulture didn’t seem to know about Ned. He didn’t know Ned was Peter’s ‘Guy in the Chair’, about his role in tracking Peter’s phone.</p><p>Peter hadn’t actually put any thought towards the investigation beyond that it would probably happen. The idea that Vulture was part of it, that he doubtlessly threw the cops off of his trail, put a huge dent in Peter’s hope of being saved. The well of hopelessness was growing deeper the more he thought about it.</p><p>“And I’m sorry to say, Pete,” Toomes continued, sounding anything but, “the NYPD are the only ones looking. Stark and his friends? They’re looking for their stuff, you’re not even on their radar.” He looked down at Peter, a sharp look in his eyes. “I don’t think he even knows you’re gone.”</p><p>That hurt. As much as Peter wished it didn’t, especially hearing it from Vulture, but it did. He had asked Ned to call, but he hadn’t been getting through. Even if Ned told the police everything, that it was Vulture, that Peter was Spider-Man, they still didn’t know who Vulture was. Even if he told Tony Stark everything it wouldn’t help them get rescued.</p><p>“I found out who you are,” Peter reminded him, speaking with much more confidence than he felt.  He glared at Toomes, pushing back the hurt. “So will someone else!”</p><p>Vulture made a gesture like he was snapping his fingers, it was in the ‘oh, I just remembered something’ way. He was completely unimpressed with Peter’s threat. “Now that you bring it up...Where is Stark?”</p><p>Peter had no idea what he meant.</p><p>“You knew who I was, figured out what I was going to do. Why did I still get away with it? Why didn’t you call him? It was his own damn plane.” Peter felt smaller with each word, hating to be reminded. “You’re not stupid, you wouldn’t keep something like this to yourself for a shot at being the hero.” He looked down at Peter, tilting his head. “But he did cut you off, so maybe you would?” </p><p>Peter didn’t answer, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself grounded in the whirlwind of shame and anger inside of his head. His own pulse was loud in his ears, Peter wished Vulture would just leave already.</p><p>“That didn’t seem right,” he continued. “It was bugging me...and then I got it,” a cruel satisfaction shined in his eyes. “You did call and <em> he didn’t pick up. </em>”</p><p>Peter hated, hated,<em> hated </em> that Vulture was right. Hated it so much. He could feel the heat rising in his face, he knew his cheeks and ears were probably red.</p><p>“Shut up!”</p><p>“I’m not the one who took your gear and ignored you,” Toomes scoffed. “Don’t get mad at me about it.”</p><p>“You don’t know anything!” Peter spat, straining forward against the chains, pain shooting up his arms at the movement.</p><p><em> I got in over my head, </em> Peter thought. <em> Because the ferry getting cut in half showed that I wasn’t good enough for the suit</em>.</p><p>He wasn’t ready to face off against people like Vulture. Peter had been shown that again and again and he hadn’t listened. He’d almost drowned in the lake and then the ferry thing had happened, and now he and May were prisoners.</p><p>That was why he’d been cut off. Because Peter was a screw up.</p><p>As angry as Peter was at Happy and Mister Stark for not answering the phone he still felt that it was all his fault. It was his identity that got found out and it was his choice to go after Vulture.</p><p>Like Vulture said, they both did what they had to.</p><p>“You’re the one who doesn’t know anything,” Vulture corrected harshly. “You’re pissed at me. Why? I hurt you because you were going to hurt me. I did what I had to do to protect myself and my family. Stark is the one who's supposed to be on your side, get mad at him for hurting you.”</p><p>
  <em> With friends like these, who needs enemies. </em>
</p><p>The saying pops into his head completely random. But that was the crux of what Vulture was saying, wasn’t it? Not that Peter was about to agree with any of it.</p><p>Not when he was chained up. Not when he still hadn’t seen if May was alright. The image of her unmoving, beaten, and bloody was burned into his eyes.</p><p>No matter what there was no way Peter would ever agree with someone who did that to May. <em> Never. </em></p><p>Peter opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say only that whatever it was he was going to yell it, but Vulture wasn’t interested in his response.</p><p>“He took your gear and left you and your family out in the cold. Stark fucked you and May over and he’s not going to lose any sleep over it.”</p><p>“You’re the one who did this!” Peter yells. He pulls at his restraints uselessly, twisting to one side and then the other, his wrists burned</p><p>“You became just another dog for them, and not even the dog they’ll let inside of the house,” Toomes said coldly.</p><p>Peter sure felt like a dog. Being fed and watered, and taken out to go to the bathroom. Humiliation burned hot and deep in his chest, by his own estimation Peter wasn’t a particularly proud person, but he had more than enough pride to be indignant.</p><p><em> “Shut up!” </em> He wishes he could think of something better to say. Something that would actually get Vulture to shut up and leave. He didn’t need the reminders, the taunting, about how much he’d failed.</p><p>It hurt. It did. Being reminded how Peter wasn’t good enough, how he hadn’t been able to keep the suit, hadn’t been good enough to keep May safe. Peter definitely didn’t want to hear about it from Vulture.</p><p>“No, you shut up,” Vulture snapped. “I’m telling you the fucking truth. This is how the real world works. People like us? Like you and May and me? We’re<em> dirt </em>to them.” He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “Why did Stark pick you to fight his buddies? You can’t throw a rock in this city without hitting ten ‘heroes’ but he grabbed you. Have you ever thought about that?”</p><p>“Because he needed me,” Peter bit out defiantly, remembering Germany, remembering the praise he’d received for his abilities and how he’d been fighting beside and against the <em> Avengers </em>. “He needed Spider-Man.”</p><p>Vulture shook his head, his expression a mix of condescending and spiteful.</p><p>“Because you wouldn’t say no,” he corrected. “Because you're poor and young. A kid who worships the ground he walks on and wouldn’t blab to his parents. Because May is a single mother and if something happened she wouldn’t be able to touch him. He picked you because you’re a nobody, because you were a useful tool that no one important would miss if he broke you.” </p><p>“That’s not true!” Peter yelled, pain shooting up his wrists when he jerked forward.</p><p>Vulture ignored him, making Peter angrier. “He didn’t need you anymore and he thought he could control you, turned out he couldn’t so he dropped you. As amazing as you are you weren’t worth the effort to him, because you have powers but you’re not powerful.”</p><p>Peter clenched his jaw so tightly that he wondered if his teeth would heal if they cracked. He glared at the cement, not wanting to even look at Vulture’s stupid smug face. Anger and humiliation burning through him in a violent urge, tempered by the terror of not having seen May since this entire thing began.</p><p>Because right now Peter didn’t even have that. He didn’t have his powers. He didn’t have anything.</p><p>“In this world you have to take care of you and yours because no one else will, not the Avengers, not the cops, not the government, just <em> you </em> . I do what I have to for my family. That’s it. That’s why you’re here.” His voice got harder. “What’s <em> their </em> reason for what they did to you?”</p><p>He paused, if he was waiting for Peter to reply he wasn’t going to. Burning with rage and wanting nothing more than for Vulture to shut his mouth. He kept his eyes on Vulture’s boot.</p><p>“You do understand what I’m talking about, Pete,” he said, not quite condescending. “Or you wouldn’t have put that mask on in the first place. You were taking care of your neighborhood, of your people, because no one else was doing it.”</p><p>“You don’t know anything about me!” Peter snapped, looking up to meet his eyes. He felt so mad he thought he was going to burst a blood vessel. Fucking Vulture was lecturing him on why he put on the mask and Peter was so angry he could barley think. “You—!”</p><p>“I know enough,” he cut in, voice cold and sure. “I know that my business has been around for years and no one has ever caught us. Not until you.” He leaned back. “<em>They don’t care</em>. Not about you and not about me, doesn’t matter what we do. Good guy, bad guy, all the same. Below them and not worth their time. You helped them and they still screwed you over.”</p><p>Peter was beginning to actually get a headache with how angry he was. Why couldn’t Vulture just go away?</p><p>Toomes reached into one of his pockets and, to Peter’s surprise, pulled out one of his web-shooters. He looked at it for a few moments, turning it over in his hands, surprisingly careful.</p><p>“I took a look at your spider-web wrist gun things,” Toomes says, putting the web-shooter back into his pocket and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “That’s some good work there. Really good. I can tell you made them yourself. Not to mention whatever the spider-web is made of. And your powers,” Vulture continued, unbothered by Peter’s silence, “you’re really something, Pete.”</p><p>It was hardly said as a compliment, more like an observation. One that Vulture didn’t seem to especially like.</p><p>
  <em> I hate you, I hate, I hate you—! </em>
</p><p>He can’t control the mantra in his brain, how it gets louder with each rendition. A fury so deep that Peter thinks that it’ll burst from his chest and rip Vulture into bloody little pieces. He looks back down at the cement, forcing himself to breathe evenly when all he wanted to do was take in deep heaving breaths, to give oxygen to the fire in his chest.</p><p>Toomes straightened up in his seat. </p><p>“I knew you were smart, Liz always said so. And May made no secret how proud she was of you. I have to admit, I thought maybe they were exaggerating, but really they might have been low-balling it.” He pauses for a moment. “All of that talent. That brain, those powers, and you choose to get in my way. Trying to stop me from taking from a government that doesn’t care and wouldn’t even miss it.”</p><p>Vulture tsks, looking Peter in the eye. Looking down on him.</p><p>“And the other night you were risking your life for a rich asshole’s <em> stuff</em>.”  He shook his head, leaning back to sit up straighter. His words are stern, almost like he was scolding him. </p><p>“It’s a goddamned <em> waste</em>, Peter.”</p><p><em> Fucking Vulture</em>, Peter thought. Fuming. Like he knew anything!</p><p>“I don’t know what the hell Stark was thinking when he cut you off,” Toomes told Peter. “I take care of my guys, I would never take their equipment.” His expression got angrier. “And I make <em>damn</em> <em>sure</em> that no one ever goes after our families for the business we do.”</p><p>“You’re the one who hurt her!” Peter explodes. “You! You fucking—You showed me that picture—!” He isn’t sure if the wavering in his voice is from rage or fear. That picture. The blood and May’s face and Ben and—</p><p>“Because I had to!” Toomes yells back, getting to his feet. His breathing, like Peter's, has gotten heavier with anger. “I did what I had to because you were in my way. But I’m not the one who <em> put you there!</em>”</p><p>His fists are clenched, Peter wonders if he’s going to hit him. He hasn’t, hasn’t even really threatened to, but he still wonders.</p><p>“Go to hell!” Peter spat. “You hurt May!” He pulled at his restraints, turning one way and the other desperately, the chains tightening painfully. </p><p>Even if he got out of them, by some miracle, it wouldn’t matter. Without his powers Peter didn’t have a chance against Toomes, he was half of foot taller and definitely stronger. Peter still pulled at the chains, mostly out of frustration.</p><p>“You want to talk about hurting? About Stark and May?” Vulture scoffed, expression going hard. “Let’s talk, Pete.”</p><p>Peter didn’t like the tone that he was using. It was like Vulture had gotten a second wind, like he’d been waiting for the topic to come up. If he could, Peter would cover his ears. </p><p>“Don’t talk about my aunt,” Peter growled. He didn’t want to know what bullshit Vulture was going to spout about May. Of course, Toomes ignores him.</p><p>“You’re not a parent,” he spits, “so you have no idea how disgusting it is what Stark did.”</p><p>Peter startled slightly. Having, somehow, completely forgotten just <em> who </em> Vulture was. A parent. Liz’s dad. It’s a break through his haze of anger.</p><p>“You don’t lie to someone about their kid. It pisses me off.” His voice was steely and the conviction was clear on his face, anger in his eyes as he stared down at Peter. But not directed at him. “You’re young, you’re going to do stupid shit. But Stark knew <em> exactly </em>what he was doing. Lying to her was nothing to him. I told you, we’re dirt to them! If you’d drowned in that lake what would he have told May?” he demands angrily.</p><p>Peter had never considered that. And Peter hates it so much, because he couldn’t help but remember that, at first, he hadn’t wanted to go to Germany. But then Mr. Stark threatened to tell May.</p><p><em> You could have put up more of a fight</em>, another part of Peter pointed out. He had wanted to say yes the second Mr. Stark had offered. It was the Avengers! Mr. Stark threatening to tell May had been all it took to break the single thread of hesitation. It wasn’t Mr. Stark’s fault, Peter was the one who should have been honest with her from the start.</p><p>Honest with Ben.</p><p>If Peter had told the truth maybe Ben would be alive, maybe May would be safe and maybe Peter would be at home sitting on the couch with both of them. At the thought Peter has to swallow around the knot in his throat that had nothing to do with Vulture or anger. He missed Ben so much, and even with only a few days between them he missed May. The three of them, Peter, Ben, and May could never be together again, ever. No matter what happened.</p><p>Because of Peter.</p><p>Mr. Stark had lied to May, that was true, but that was only because he had been helping Peter lie.</p><p>Peter had lied first. Peter was the one who had screwed up and gotten them into this terrible situation. </p><p>But he couldn’t ignore Vulture’s question. As much as he wanted to. What would have Mr. Stark told May if Peter had died? Would he have told her the truth? The idea of it was chilling. She worried about him all the time, if he died...he never wanted to hurt her, ever.</p><p><em> Good job at not hurting her, </em> he thought to himself sarcastically.  </p><p>“Would he have told her anything at all? Or would she have been stuck waiting for a boy who was never coming home?” Vulture sneered. “Stark would have fished you out just to take his suit back, so maybe they would have found your body.” He tensed, voice gaining an odd note. “But a dead kid is a dead kid.”</p><p>Toomes turned away quickly, but Peter had seen it. The most real emotion Peter had ever seen from Vulture crossed his face for the briefest second. A far away look of desolation at the idea.</p><p><em> Liz. He was thinking about what if something had happened to Liz, </em>Peter realized, dumbfounded.</p><p>It didn’t feel real. His body was chained up but Peter was somewhere else, watching. It was strange to think about Liz when he was here with chains rubbing his wrists raw and with May’s blood staining the knees of his pants. Thinking about Liz made him think about school. About Ned and Michelle, and Flash and Mr. Harrington and about that quiz he was supposed to take on Friday for English.</p><p>Everything was a distant world, another life. To be reminded that it wasn’t really so far away was jarring.</p><p>Confusing but also not. Of course Vulture cared about his family. But that fact <em> felt </em> like it shouldn’t be compliant with the man who had Peter and his family trapped and chained. It shouldn’t fit. Except it did. Peter just couldn’t reconcile it.</p><p>“I didn’t tell her about Spider-Man,” Vulture repeats, expression back to the icy anger that Peter had come to expect. “But I did tell her about Stark.” He huffed with a derisive sort of amusement. “With that she figured out that I was Vulture. Considering her head that’s a pretty good sign.” He finished with a look at Peter.</p><p>Peter’s temper snapped back to the forefront, hearing Vulture reference one of May’s injuries. There were too many words in his mouth, all of them angry. He didn’t know which to pick.</p><p>“Nothing is more important to her than you,” Vulture said, the words sharp. “And Stark lied to her about you. I didn’t.”</p><p>“You. Hurt. Her.” Peter forced out, rage in every syllable.</p><p>“She’ll heal,” he said, brushing it off. “Going to let you in on a secret; as long as you’re here she doesn’t care what happens to her.”</p><p>
  <em> “I CARE!” </em>
</p><p>The scream hurts his throat, but he wants to do it again. Wants to scream at Vulture until he’s blue in the face. He breathes hard, the inferno of helpless rage in his chest roaring.</p><p>
  <em> I care. I care I care I care! </em>
</p><p>“Not enough to tell her the truth!” Vulture said harshly, raising his voice but not matching Peter’s shouting.</p><p>Peter felt the words like a physical blow. Right in the ribs. He clenched his jaw, his eyes were beginning to feel warm. It twisted something inside him to hear Toomes say these things. Especially with the image of that picture in his head, of May bloody and hurt. He was angry, so angry, but he was scared for May too. And guilty. Vulture wasn’t wrong.</p><p>May was everything to him, his only family. And he’d lied to her.</p><p>“I didn’t have a problem with Spider-Man until you got in the way of my business. Because getting in my way was a threat to my family,” Vulture said, yanking Peter out of his head.</p><p>“Those weapons are threats to other people’s families!” Peter shot back, looking up to glare at Toomes. He’s straining as forward as his restraints will allow. His muscles stretch and burn in a way that has become unfamiliar to him since he got his powers. Anger and grief a burning supernova in his chest, making him shake. “You’re hurting people!”</p><p>Toomes was unfazed by his furious declaration.</p><p>“After this last haul is all done I’m retiring from the weapon’s business.” He paused for a few beats before speaking again. “Making streets a little safer at night, helping out with car accidents and fires, I don’t have anything against you, as much as you tick me off.” The last part was accompanied with a glare at Peter.</p><p>Peter had no idea where Vulture was going with the conversation. Was he hoping to somehow convince Peter that he’d be let go if he stayed quiet?</p><p>“I have a lot against you,” he growled. “You hurt May! You’re a criminal!”</p><p>“Criminal,” he repeated derisively. “Who writes those laws? Let me put it this way,” he said, the note of anger ringing out stronger than before. “Stark made his money selling weapons. It’s the same thing I’m doing.”</p><p>Peter was shaking his head.</p><p>“The difference,” Toomes said, narrowing his eyes at Peter’s denial, “is that he sold to the government, I sell to people. That’s it. There’s the big damn difference between Iron Man and Vulture.”</p><p>“He doesn’t make weapons anymore!” Peter shouted.</p><p>“And after this last haul, I won’t either,” he said bluntly, cutting the legs out from underneath Peter’s rebuttal ruthlessly.</p><p>“You <em> steal </em>—!”</p><p>Toomes barked out a laugh before Peter could say anything else. “Where do you think all the shit they build missiles with comes from? I steal from trucks. People like Stark and the government? At least when I take something I don’t carpet bomb a small <em> country </em> to do it!”</p><p>Peter was furiously trying to think of a response besides just screaming at him to let him and May go, but he couldn’t.</p><p>“So there’s no real difference.” He looked at Peter, not softening but some of the sharpness had left to be replaced with something bitter. “I don’t blame you for not realizing that. You’re too young. They dress it up all pretty but at the end of the day there’s different rules for them and us.”</p><p>He waits a few beats, like he wants to make sure Peter has a chance to absorb the words.</p><p>“Stark got to walk away from his weapons business, sit on his money, and have a good life. I just want to do the same.”</p><p>“It’s not that same!” Peter shouted. He wanted to argue, wanted to say more, but he couldn’t think of what to say. Couldn’t deny that, really, <em> Vulture wasn’t wrong. </em> Peter hated it.</p><p>The look Toomes gave him, one of cynical satisfaction, made him think that he knew exactly what Peter was thinking. He knew he’d won the argument. </p><p>“You ever hear that old story about a snake and a farmer?”</p><p>Peter didn’t answer. He hadn’t, but he really didn’t care. God, when was Vulture going to go away? Was this how they were going to torture him? Peter would almost rather be hit.</p><p>“It goes like this: A farmer is out walking one day and finds a half-dead snake in the snow. He feels sorry for it, so he puts it in his jacket.” He pauses, waiting to see if Peter will say anything. He doesn’t, so Toomes continues. “The snake wakes up and bites the farmer. As he’s dying the farmer asks the snake why he bit him when he’d just helped it. The snake says ‘you knew what I was when you picked me up’.”</p><p>Peter grinds his teeth, but doesn’t say anything. The last thing in the world he wanted was some fucked up bedtime story from Vulture.</p><p>“Nothing? Fine, I’ll spell it out for you. You helped Stark and he bit you. Because of who you are and who he is, you were always going to get screwed. You trusted the wrong person, let them get close enough to stab you in the back. You put someone dangerous, a snake, into your jacket because you wanted to help.”</p><p>He waited for a reaction, but Peter was busy burning a hole into the ground with his glare. Listening against his will as Vulture pointed out his mistakes, his too trusting nature. He had felt too safe and had gotten careless. He'd been too eager to prove himself. </p><p>He knew these powers came with a responsibility to care about his community, even if his calls for help went unanswered. He just wished it hadn’t ended up with May getting hurt.</p><p>He’d messed up, he’d been too obvious, even masked, and Vulture had figured Spider-Man out.</p><p>And once you got past Spider-Man it was just Peter Parker, and Peter wasn’t nearly so strong.</p><p>“No response?”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Peter sneered, forcing his jaw open to speak.</p><p>Vulture was unamused, but unsurprised.</p><p>“Tch. Can’t blame a snake for being what it is, but take responsibility for picking the damn thing up and don’t pretend it didn’t bite.”</p><p>“What does that make you?” </p><p>“Believe it or not, Pete. I’m the farmer.” A sharp smile cut across his face for a moment before fading back into seriousness. “I just stopped sticking snakes in my jacket. I gave you a chance, Peter. You just decided to throw it away.”</p><p>Peter pulls at his restraints, turning his torso left and right, it’s useless. Because Toomes was right, he had. And for what? For nothing. He didn’t stop Vulture, Peter had done nothing except put his aunt in danger. </p><p>When Vulture leaves he takes his chair with him. The lights turn off again once the door closes. Peter slumps his shoulders, tired, wrung out, and aching to see May. His wrists are killing him, and the rest of him isn’t very happy either. Peter thinks his knees are going to be bruised for the rest of his life.</p><p>“Whatever!” Peter growls to himself, shaking his head to clear it.</p><p>Who cared what Vulture said!? It doesn’t matter. That whole conversation was a waste of time. Peter could worry and think about everything later! Right now he had to focus on May. On them getting out. Nothing else mattered. Not Vulture. Not Iron Man.</p><p>Peter is going to do what he should have always done, he’s going to protect what was important, his family.</p><p>Peter breathed in deeply, releasing it slowly, refocusing.</p><p>Hopefully the next time they took him to the bathroom there would be a message from May waiting for him.</p><p>Peter waits.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tell me what you guys think about the conversation! Lots of things going on here. No I will not elaborate.<br/>In-story Tony’s handling of the Spider-Man thing has been criticized a lot, but keep in mind who is saying it.<br/>Remind me to never put Peter and Toomes in a room for a conversation ever again, this thing just did not want to be written. I almost decided to cut it out from the story entirely. But there are some stuff in here that I wanted to include even though I didn't necessarily need to. Toomes sorta won this round, but in Peter's defense he's 15.</p><p>...But there's another Parker around who Toomes wouldn't have a maturity advantage over...hm....</p><p>Timeline<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; at undetermined time May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fails, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz briefly talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter at an unspecified time Tuesday morning</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A Raven With Blood On Its Wings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A muffled shout and blood on the wall. It's the closest they've been.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Ned and MJ make a plan</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from "Far From Home (The Raven)" Sam Tinnesz</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>May flinched awake, having been half sleeping, as much as could be called ‘sleep’ in this place. For a moment she didn’t know what woke her up.</p><p>At the first May thought she was hallucinating, or dreaming. But when she kept hearing it she figured it was real.</p><p>
  <em> Peter! </em>
</p><p>Her heart seized in her chest, hope and terror crashing together in an awful symphony. Scared for Peter, hoping she’d get to see him. She forgot herself, lunging forward, towards his voice, only to be harshly reminded of their circumstances as the chain was pulled taunt, yanking her arms back and aggravating her injuries. Immediately she stopped, a short groan of pain escaping her.</p><p>His voice was muffled, very muffled. But she knew it was him, could hear him asking for her. Her breathing picked up, heart doing double-time in her chest. They were so close, just beyond the door. May considered trying to respond, if she could hear him then maybe, if she yelled, Peter would be able to hear her.</p><p>But was that a good idea?</p><p>Peter would know what room she was in, but the men keeping them captive would know that he knew. They might put her somewhere else, might separate them even farther if they knew she and Peter knew anything of each other.</p><p>She still had to bite down on her tongue not to respond when she heard Peter asking for her again. Even May is surprised by just how instinctual the urge to reply is, the shout fighting to burst out her mouth.</p><p>May took deep breaths, staring in the general direction of the floor. She clenched and unclenched her hands, focusing on the uninhibited curl of her fingers. <em> Calm. Think, </em> she reminded herself. Her heart rate didn’t listen, but she forced her breathing to even out.</p><p>Peter was nearby. She knew that now. He was well enough to shout and walk. The first real sign she had of him.</p><p>It was something, May concluded bitterly. She was fighting back tears, wishing she could see him. Wishing she could protect him. A muffled voice was all she had of him at the moment.</p><p>He had let himself get kidnapped because Toomes had threatened her.</p><p>Peter was here because of her and she couldn't protect him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know how much time passes from hearing Peter to the door opening.</p><p>All May does know is she had just successfully fought off the crying fit she’d almost fallen into when the sudden light blinds her. </p><p><em> Time to be fed and watered </em> , May thought sourly, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Eye. Her left eye was still giving her trouble. <em> A short walk on a leash, let out for a bathroom break. </em></p><p>The indignity of it somehow still bothered her despite everything else. Still made her angry every time it happened. </p><p>She kept her complaints to herself as they made their way to the bathroom. May was walking down the same hallway Peter had been in. Just knowing he had occupied the space she was in now ached in some strange miserable pulse that consumed her entire body.</p><p>The bathroom door closed behind her—</p><p>She gasped.</p><p>Writing. On the wall. Letters. For a few precious seconds all she could do was stare incredulously. Not able to process what she was seeing. </p><p>Wall. Letters. Words.</p><p>Message. </p><p>
  <em> Peter! </em>
</p><p>He’d left a message!</p><p>Suddenly frantic May looked around the bathroom, looking for some sort of excuse. She needed <em> time! </em> Time to examine the message and reply properly. Time they wouldn’t let her have. She could ask, but she wouldn’t be allowed enough. How could she...</p><p><em> Got it </em>, May thought, smirking.</p><p>She made sure to arrange her expression appropriately before she opened the door wide enough to poke her head out, Chris turned to her, puzzled by her quick reappearance.</p><p>“I, um—I need extra time—”</p><p>He frowned, opening his mouth. Either to give her only a few more seconds or to tell her no, but May wasn’t finished.</p><p>“—woman things. Menstrual stuff—”</p><p>The second ‘menstrual’ left her mouth, Chris’s eyes widened with alarm and he jerked back as if she’d slapped him and he’d swallowed his tongue in the meanwhile.</p><p>His mouth was open as he stared at her, silent for just a beat too long for it not to be a loss for words. May kept her eyes on him. Just staring straight at his face.</p><p>“Whatever!” he said quickly. “Just—,” he found some of his bearings. “Not too long, okay!?” he tried to sound firm, but his discomfort just made his words stiff. “Go!” He said the last word in the same voice someone would use to shoo off a rat that they were frightened of.</p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>She shut the door. Going by his reaction May probably had a good ten minutes, at least, before he started pounding on the door.</p><p>“Men,” she huffed quietly.</p><p>If he knew anything he’d know she was bullshitting. She had counted on him not knowing. <em>Thank you crappy sex-ed, </em> May thought to herself wryly. </p><p>Now, she had a message to reply to. She still had to be quick, she didn’t want to arouse suspicion or give him long enough to get over his initial reaction.</p><p>May looked at the letters carefully, now actually having time to register it beyond just being letters.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She took a long breath, it was slightly shaky.</p><p>
  <em> I’m okay, are you? </em>
</p><p>The letters were messy, rushed, red. They were written in blood.</p><p>Peter was <em> bleeding. </em></p><p>Hadn’t Toomes said...May closed her eyes—eye, thinking and trying to remember. She felt better now that some time had passed but things were still harder than they should be. Her memory of that day in particular was blurry.</p><p>And May still had no idea what happened before, she hadn’t been able to retrieve any memory beyond that last one of work. Anytime she tried too hard her never ending headache worsened.</p><p>He’d said Peter wasn’t hurt. She doesn’t really remember, not exactly, but she knows that’s what he’d meant. May had to trust her battered brain to have latched onto that message if not the wording. Wait. No. He’d said he wasn’t hurt at that moment, but that might have changed since then.</p><p>May dragged herself away from the almost-memory. It didn’t really matter what he’d said. Peter was here and Peter was bleeding. </p><p>
  <em> Okay, keep it together. Thinking now, feelings later. </em>
</p><p>May was going to murder Toomes if she ever got the chance. Her kid was bleeding, that wasn’t something she could forgive.</p><p><em> Focus, May. </em> </p><p>Her eyes widened as she ran the pads of her fingers over the letters. The blood was still the slightest bit damp. </p><p>Peter had <em> just </em>been here. Within the hour.</p><p>When she’d heard him.</p><p>He’d been shouting on his way back, or to, the bathroom, May realized. Her eyes were wide as she processed the information.</p><p>The pounding at her temples got worse, May ignored it. If Peter used this bathroom, he was nearby.</p><p>Nearby, and probably in a duplicate of the hell room that she was in. She closed her hand into a fist, still over the letters, the blood smeared a bit. He was so close, but May still couldn’t get to him. She couldn’t protect him from any of this. May couldn’t do <em> anything. </em></p><p>She took a breath, clenching her jaw as she stared at the words. Thinking.</p><p>May thought about how to reply, when she decided she rolled up the sleeves of her sweater, examining herself. She didn't want to aggravate her wrists any more. The chains did that more than enough. Her wrists burned with every brush of the restraints, competing with her head in the pain department. If it kept up May wouldn’t be surprised if her hands fell off.</p><p>Thankfully she had no shortage of injuries to reopen, so she picked one on her right forearm and got to work.</p><p>Right now, she couldn’t do anything for Peter except communicate with him.</p><p>Once she finished May finally let the pride, jittery as it was because of their situation, wash over her.</p><p>Peter had figured out they were using the same bathroom. He’d taken care that it was the area of the wall that the open door covered, only someone inside the bathroom would see it. May never would have thought of that, not in a hundred years. Her smile pulled at the cut on her lip.</p><p>“...My clever boy.”</p><p>By the time she was back to sitting in the dark and chained she had decided that they had to get together. There was absolutely no way to move forward until then, as long as she and Peter were separated they wouldn’t be able to do anything. She just had to figure out how to do that. </p><p>Hours later, May had an idea.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It took a long time to try to sort out the conversation with Vulture. After fuming for some time (hours?) he had focused on the new information he had. It was hard to separate it from everything else Vulture had said, because Peter was still frustrated and furious, but focusing on May grounded him immediately. </p><p>That’s what he had to focus on. He mentally sorted out his new information.</p><p>May knew he was here. She was injured but conscious. There was a missing persons investigation for them. Vulture had been interviewed for it. Mr. Stark, probably, didn’t know they were missing. Which meant Ned hadn’t been able to get through. Vulture didn’t seem to know about Ned’s connection to him. </p><p>May still didn’t know about Spider-Man but did know about Mr. Stark’s involvement. Vulture said that May hadn’t been hurt since they were kidnapped. </p><p>For a moment Peter entertained the thought that he’d spouted the same lecture at her that he gave to Peter. He wondered how she responded. If she could respond. ‘Not a vegetable’ was a very wide metric and it scared him. It completely terrified him, actually.</p><p>Vulture had <em> said </em> all those things. His word didn’t mean much to Peter but it was the only thing he had to go on. And May being conscious did line up with the smudge of blood on the bathroom door, it lent a microscopic smidge of credibility to his words. </p><p>Peter had no choice but to believe him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Never in his entire life has Peter been more excited about going to the bathroom. Ever. It was almost hard to keep his anticipation off of his face as he was escorted. It wasn’t happiness, nothing so positive existed here, but it was something. He'd been able to actually do <em>something</em>.</p><p>Peter carefully—too carefully? Was it suspicious?—walked into the bathroom as he normally would, forcing himself not to look at the wall until he was sure the door was going to stay closed.</p><p>After a few seconds he gave in, heart pounding, as his eyes landed on the wall.</p><p>
  <em>Aunt May!</em>
</p><p>She had replied! Peter inhaled shakily, some strange excited but anguished repetition of her name playing in his head as he looked.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The ‘Y’ was easy. Yes. Yes she was okay. Peter didn’t know how much he believed that, unable to get the picture Toomes had shown him out of his head, but she had replied with ‘yes’, had been <em> able </em>to reply in the first place.</p><p>‘Hear you’. She heard him. She could hear him which meant the door they passed was where May was! They weren’t that far, not at all. That was good, that was something.</p><p>One. Four. Three.</p><p>Peter puzzled over the last part of May’s message. It seemed familiar, he knew it meant something. May had thought he’d know what it meant.</p><p>Peter breathed in sharply, a memory hitting him so hard he thought his knees might give out. He had to breathe through his nose and out his mouth, releasing air between his teeth as he clenched his jaw. Trying not to let his suddenly watery eyes turn into something more.</p><p>Peter understood May’s message.</p><p>When he was little they used to have alphabet and number magnets on the fridge, he would spell new words with them and his aunt and uncle would leave short cutesy messages for each other. Peter hadn’t understood why. They lived together, couldn’t they just talk?</p><p>Ben said he’d understand when he was older. He did, now. Sorta. It's just the kind of thing you do with somebody when you’re in love. It hurt to think about it now.</p><p>Peter whispered May’s message to himself.</p><p>“Yes. I can hear you—”</p><p>May had liked to make a heart using the V and turning the 3. While Ben...</p><p>
  <em>'Uncle Ben, what does the numbers mean? You always put those ones at the end. Is it a secret code?'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'It’s a code, but it isn’t secret. The numbers stand for words. These numbers mean...'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I love you.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <strong>OCT 25, TUESDAY</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” MJ says, eyes on her phone. “Let’s start from the top. Simple. Missing person posters and social media.”</p><p>Ned nodded. They had relocated to a McDonalds that was within walking distance, a half eaten order of fries sitting between them and soda for one each. He fidgeted in his seat, the chairs were always so uncomfortable. He read once that it was on purpose so people didn’t loiter, he wondered if that was true.</p><p>“I can get pictures for the posters,” Ned volunteered. “And the information to go on them.” </p><p>“Cool,” MJ said, looking up long enough to give him a serious nod. “Let me look up places that’ll print them ASAP,” she bit her lip. “...And look up how much that costs,” she added.</p><p>Ned grimaced, pausing from where he had brought up pictures on his phone.</p><p>“Hopefully not too much?” He sighed, taking another fry. “I can ask my parents for money, they know Peter and May too. I know they’ll want to help.”</p><p>“Mine wouldn’t mind,” MJ replied easily, frowning at her phone. “Did you know the NYPD has a missing persons twitter account?”</p><p>He hadn’t. “Really?” Ned asked, already leaning forward when MJ showed him the screen on her phone. “They have less than ten retweets <em> combined </em>.”</p><p>“Seems to be pretty normal,” Michelle said with a small grimace, scrolling through the account. “There, I just retweeted them.”</p><p>Ned pulled up twitter on his phone, doing the same.</p><p>“That was anticlimactic,” he noted after the silence got awkward. He stared at May and Peter’s tweets. The words ‘last seen’ twisted his stomach with guilt.</p><p>“Very,” she sighed, looking out the window, squinting against the sun. “Let’s get some posters printed today. We can start putting them up as soon as we get ‘em, and…” she trailed off.</p><p>“MJ?” Ned prompted, still unused to the nickname. She turned back towards him. </p><p>“How do you feel about getting the AcaDeca team to help?” She must have seen the alarm on his face, because she rushed to say, “not tell them anything you told me! Just…” she shrugged, looking at the table instead of at him. “What they already know. Peter and his aunt are missing. The more people helping with putting up posters and stuff the better right?” She asked uncertainly.</p><p>Ned was caught between not wanting to discourage Michelle, who was fidgeting in her seat, and the instinctual ‘secrets mean keep other people away!’ that was in his head.</p><p>She wasn’t wrong, they already did know. Everyone knew. It was on twitter, Morita had announced it to the entire school. </p><p>“Do you think they’ll want to?” Ned asked.</p><p>“I think so,” MJ answered, biting her lip, “I mean Liz will at least, and lots of people will do it if she does because she’s the captain. Peter was her date, I know she’s been…” she shrugged helplessly. “It’s hard for her.”</p><p>MJ and Liz, he remembered, were friends. MJ would disagree with the ‘friend’ label, and she sometimes didn’t sit with anyone at lunch, but she and Liz talked. A top AcaDeca competitor and the captain of the team were going to spend time together, even if just for practice. </p><p>And Ned knew the team didn’t spend every minute studiously practicing for competitions, even when they were supposed to be. They screwed around a lot too, talking instead of practicing. It was fun.</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Ned said, remembering the brief conversation he’d had with Liz in the office. “It must be weird for her.”</p><p>“I think giving her a way to help would be a nice thing to do,” she meant it as a statement, but it trailed upwards with the uncertainty of a question.</p><p>“...True.”</p><p>“Have you—” she stopped, considering. Then continued. “Did you think about maybe telling Liz? You know, the stuff you told me.” As little as it had been it was still something.</p><p>“No,” Ned said honestly. He winced guiltily. “I—uh—didn’t even consider it.” He dipped a fry in some ketchup, trying to put his thoughts in order. “I still don’t know if I should have told <em> you </em>.” He looked up. “No offense.” </p><p>MJ waved him off, sipping from her soda as she urged him to go on.</p><p>“And I don’t know her like I know you,” he stared at the ketchup, the red of it against the yellow of the fry, “she might go to the police.” He sighed. “I thought you were going to.”</p><p>“Almost,” Michelle admitted sheepishly. “And, uh, I’m glad you trusted me but you kinda barely know me?”</p><p>“More than Liz,” Ned pointed out. “I know stuff <em> about </em>Liz but it’s not the same. I mean, I know you’re not the kind of person who would run to the cops right away. Probably. And we are sorta-kinda friends.” He shrugged, frowning thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to tell anyone anyways. I feel bad about Liz but…”</p><p>“You won’t tell her the stuff you told me,” she finished for him. And he was still on the fence about having told her in the first place, she could tell. “She doesn’t have to know,” MJ said after a moment, seeing the guilt on Ned’s face again. “Even with what just the public knows, she can help a lot.”</p><p>“‘The public’” Ned repeated, almost self-deprecatingly. “You’re right though, I should talk to Liz. I didn’t even ask her how her interview with the police went.” He rubbed at his arms. “The room was super cold, by the way. I was almost shivering.”</p><p>“An intimidation tactic for interrogations,” MJ said, nodding. Ned wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, so he decided not to reply to the comment.</p><p>“But like you said, she was Peter’s date. She shouldn’t feel bad,” Ned said.</p><p>“You shouldn’t feel bad either,” MJ pointed out, Ned shot her a half-hearted glare. Disagreeing. “Anyways. The team?”</p><p>“...I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask the team if they want to help,” he said. He glared at his soda. “But if Flash tries to put ‘Penis’ on any of the posters I might hit him.”</p><p>“You’d probably get away with it.” MJ grabbed another french fry. “We can give some posters to our parents too, they can pass them out at their jobs.”</p><p>“Good idea,” Ned said, trying to remember what pictures and information on the Parkers he could remember off the top of his head. Sooner they had posters the better.</p><p>“Okay,” Michelle said, determined. She pulled out a mechanical pencil and notebook from her backpack, somewhat dramatically slapping them down on the table. “Let’s make a list of the local news stations, and radio stations, that might pick this story up. Maybe they’ll mention it anyways, but it’ll be better if someone actually bugs them about it.”</p><p>Michelle was on a roll, Ned recognized her thinking face from competitions. He listened carefully as she laid out a plan, tapping her mechanical pencil against the paper. She was looking somewhere to the side as she spoke, thinking out loud.</p><p>“And we can get the team to retweet the tweets from the police, maybe twice a day? The news people are on twitter, if we keep tagging them over and over maybe they’ll be annoyed enough to pick the story up.”</p><p>“News?” Then, “radio? Do people even still listen to that?”</p><p>“Old people do,” Michelle shrugged. “Anyways, news! CNN isn’t going to put it up, but maybe the littler stations will.” She nodded to herself. “After we order the posters to be printed, while we wait, we’ll start calling them,” she finished decisively, nodding to herself. </p><p>Ned gaped at her.</p><p>“You can have my firstborn,” he blurted. “MJ you’re a freakin’ genius!”</p><p>Her eyes snapped to his face, like she’d forgotten he was there. Her expression suddenly sheepish, though she was trying to hide it, but the blush appearing on her cheeks gave it away.</p><p>“...You would have thought about those things too,” she deflected, looking at the paper instead of him. “But you care so much about Peter that you can’t think right now.” She looked at him, only quickly enough to say the next sentence. “But thanks.”</p><p>She looked down at her paper, pencil hovering over the paper.</p><p>“F.O.P.,” he suggested. At her questioning look he clarified. “Friends of Peter,” he paused, “or ‘Parkers’? To include both of them?”</p><p>He could see her hold back the instinctive urge to deny they were friends, he was pleased she didn’t.</p><p>“Okay, fine.” She wrote the letters at the top. “Operation: Find Them,” she said, writing it underneath, a serious expression on her face.</p><p>She shifted in her seat. “Um. You said Peter’s phone was in Brooklynn, right?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“You’re the only one who knows the timeline for where Peter was. His phone, anyways. We should figure that out,” she suggested.</p><p>“...I was actually thinking of…” Ned trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek. It was a bad idea, it was an even worse idea to drag someone else into it. “Nevermind.”</p><p>“Partners,” she reminded him seriously. “I have a brain, you’re not making me do anything. You can’t,” she assured him.</p><p>Ned still didn’t say it right away. But she was right. Partners. He released a long breath, bracing himself.</p><p>“I have the general area in Brooklyn where Peter was,” he said, staring at his hands on the table instead of MJ. “It’s an old industrial yard,” he frowned. “No idea what Vulture was doing there—”</p><p>“No idea what <em> Peter </em>was doing there,” MJ muttered quietly.</p><p>“—but I was going to go there,” he continued.</p><p>“Go there?” MJ repeated, despite having suspected it. “Like <em> go there </em> go there?”</p><p>“<em> Go there </em> go there,” he confirmed. “Is there another there? What other ‘go there’ is there?” Ned asked. “And can we stop saying ‘there’? My brain is starting to do that thing where if you say a word too much it starts sounding weird.”</p><p>MJ almost smiled, Ned thinks she might have laughed if it was any other time.</p><p>“I want to go soon, the more days that pass the less chance I’ll actually find anything. If there’s anything to find. I’m deciding when to go—”</p><p>“I don’t know about you, Leeds,” Michelle says, interrupting him. She picked up a french fry and popped it into her mouth. “But I’m feeling sick, I don’t think I’m going to make it to school tomorrow.”</p><p>Ned isn’t surprised she wanted to go with him, that’s why he hesitated to tell her. But Ned didn’t want to go alone almost as much as he didn’t want to go with someone. If something happened and they were there because of Ned…</p><p>He already got two people kidnapped, Ned wasn’t aiming for a third.</p><p>He pushed the thought away, they would be careful. Peter and May were counting on them.</p><p>“You can just <em> say </em> we’re ditching.”</p><p>“Skipping,” she corrected. “Ditching is when you’re already at school and you leave. We’re not going at all.”</p><p>“No difference.”</p><p>“Words mean different things, there is to a difference.”</p><p>“Nu-uh,” he disagreed, stealing the fry she was reaching for, earning him narrowed eyes.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” she countered, stealing the ketchup.</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m very loosely basing the AcaDeca’s team dynamics on the ones from my hs/college debate team. In case anyone was curious.<br/>Do kids these days know about 1-4-3? Many moons ago it was used for pagers and early cell phones.</p><p>The NYPD does actually have a twitter account dedicated to Missing Persons. I’m telling you because I know you were all wondering about that very crucial detail. Not because I want to humble-brag about my research. Not at all.</p><p>I’ve decided some things for where/how I want this story to go, but I have to iron out the timeline again, and the pacing. And, you know, actually write it. I’m super excited for what I’ve decided to do. I can’t wait to get to certain things! It might be a few weeks until the next chapter.<br/> </p><p>I would love to hear any guesses about May’s idea! </p><p>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; at undetermined time May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fails, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz briefly talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter at an unspecified time Tuesday morning, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Your Friends Come Sniffing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Instead of school Ned and MJ spend the day trespassing.<br/>Looking for clues is one thing, being prepared for what you find is another.</p><p>[This chapter has a trigger warning, please read it before starting the chapter]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TRIGGER WARNING: MJ is going to very briefly think about murder victims. There are descriptions of dead bodies/mutilation of a corpse. If you want to skip it’s from “MJ had no interest…” until “Then there’s Ned.”</p><p>Chapter title is from “Tessellate” Alt-J</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you really think they’re still alive?”</p><p>They had just arrived in front of their destination when she spoke. He didn’t have to think about his answer, the words forming in his mouth the second he understood the question.</p><p>“Yes!” Ned replied furiously. “They’re alive!”</p><p>“...Ned.” She looked at him, eyes big, then away, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear and shifting her weight.</p><p>“What?” he asked, a little sharper than intended. Daring her to say it.</p><p>MJ sighed, speaking softly, she replied. </p><p>“Every hour a person is missing the odds of them getting found safe goes down. And if…,” she bit her lip. “If this really was Vulture, the person who sells alien guns to criminals, then…”</p><p>“We don’t know where they are MJ,” he argued firmly. </p><p>She was quiet, weighing and deciding her next course of action, whether or not she should push the subject. </p><p>“Yeah,” she agreed, wondering if Ned actually felt as certain as he said he was. “I guess you’re right. We don’t know where they are.”</p><p>Or<em> how </em> they are.</p><p>Normally she would have insisted. Michelle had a bad habit of blurting out the truth even when it hurt people, but this whole thing with Ned and Peter was so new and bizarre that even bad habits took a step back. Bad habits. Good habits. Common sense…</p><p>Too late now. </p><p>MJ wanted the Parkers to be alright. Desperately. But today was the fifth day they’d been missing. She’d looked up some statistics about missing persons cases. She wasn’t sure if any of it was relevant to the Parkers because of their unique circumstances, but she’d looked anyways.</p><p>
  <em> Including both children and adults about 2,300 Americans are reported missing every day. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At any given time, an estimated 90,000 people are missing in the United States. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The first 12-24 hour the most critical in a missing person investigation. </em>
</p><p>And then something that made her worry.</p><p>
  <em> In most jurisdictions, missing persons cases receive low priority.  </em>
</p><p>Already dealing with violent crimes and more urgent cases, missing person investigations, unless they were clear-cut child abductions, weren’t put at the top of the list. Understandable but frustrating. It only made MJ more determined to make sure the Parker case got as much attention as possible.</p><p>She looked at the street they were walking down. Tire marks were on the road besides them.</p><p>The odds of her and Ned finding them before the police did was low but MJ still couldn’t help but really really hope they didn’t anyways.</p><p>She liked morbid stuff, conspiracy theories, true crime shows...But she liked them at a distance. Through a book or screen, she didn’t want to be <em> in </em>one.</p><p>And here she was. Caught in a mysterious conspiracy that Ned couldn’t tell her the entire truth about, a real life kidnapping case where she knew the victims.</p><p>MJ had no interest in seeing a corpse and she didn’t want to think about how awful it would be to know them. She couldn’t help but remember all those cases where people’s bodies were found stuffed in waterlogged suitcases or chopped up in trash bags. Various stages of rotting, of being maimed. Bloated from water or burned. Pieces missing, like hands and heads, to throw off identification.</p><p>MJ shuddered, dread clawing at her insides. She should stop thinking about those things, she decided.</p><p>Then there was Ned.</p><p>She had already known Ned was smart. Known that he was enthusiastic and reliable, but this? This was an entire new level of ‘best friend’. She was almost intimidated by this side of him, the determination and loyalty. It was the level of friendship that got written about, that made it into poems. It was beyond ‘good person’. Ned was extraordinary and he didn’t even realize it, focused on the Parkers as he was.</p><p>If the Parkers weren’t found alive it was going to crush him. It would crush her too and she wasn’t anywhere near as close to it as Ned was.</p><p>MJ wasn’t sure if she wanted to find something with their personal investigations or not.</p><p>If they found something it would make her feel even worse about not going to the police, because the police could actually do something about a clue. Would know what to do. Hiding actual evidence was even worse than lying to police in the first place, it was just shy of actually helping the bad guys. Maybe it <em> would </em> be helping the bad guys.</p><p>This was too much thinking, they hadn’t even found anything. Yet.</p><p>If they didn’t find anything then they were at a dead end where they had nothing but the police investigation to rely on. The police and the public. There was no such thing as a perfect crime, something, somewhere, was a loose end, they just had to find it. </p><p>If the Parkers were already dead it didn’t matter what she and Ned did, but if they weren’t…</p><p>Either way the Parkers deserved to be found, MJ concluded grimly, alive or not.</p><p> </p><p>Before they entered the yard proper one of the roads leading to it had skid marks, a smashed light pole, and pieces of metal scattered around. The mostly cleaned up scene of a crash.</p><p>Peter had crashed, Ned recalled. Or it sounded like it. And Flash said his car had been found, wrecked. This must have been the spot. The last place he could say for sure that Peter was before he disappeared. </p><p>“This has to do with Peter, we’re on the right track,” he declared.</p><p>“It’s just an accident,” MJ replied, frowning at him.</p><p>“It has to do with Peter.”</p><p>“Can’t tell me?” she guessed, getting used to the drill of seemingly random secrecy.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“Well <em> something </em> happened here,” MJ observed, tapping the street with the tip of her converse. Deep, black tire marks and scrapes marked the street corner. She looked around, squinting at the lampposts and street signs. “Do you see any cameras?”</p><p>Ned copied her, tilting his hat so it shaded his eyes. “No.”</p><p>“Damn.”</p><p>“So, we just walk around and hope there’s a clue?” she asked neutrally. </p><p>It was Peter’s last location. Just being here gave Ned the creeps despite the sunny day and friendly company. They weren’t even alone, the industrial yard was being used. But maybe that was exactly what Ned didn’t like about it.</p><p>MJ trusted him to call the shots, trusted him when he withheld information from her. It was a huge responsibility, because he didn’t know if he was making the right choices.</p><p>Choices like if being around here could get both him and MJ killed.</p><p>Ned looked around, trying to be aware of their surroundings or any threats. He spotted a man leaning against a light blue truck, smoking a cigarette and looking bored.</p><p>Farther away there were people who looked like they were on their lunch break from a warehouse, lunch coolers and sandwiches in hand.</p><p>No one who looked out of place. No one except them. The thought made him frown. He should have thought about that before they came here.</p><p>Cigarette guy was busy scratching at a large bandage wrapped on his bicep, he wasn’t paying any attention to them at all. Lunch-Break Group had broken up, three people leaving and two staying, speaking to each other animatedly. Maybe Ned was being paranoid.</p><p>If he turned the other way and squinted he could see what looked like people loading industrial stuff onto the back of a big truck.</p><p>“Bad feeling?” MJ asked, reading his mood. </p><p>“Peter was here,” Ned says, to himself as much as to MJ. “And there might be a clue or something but this was the <em> last place </em> I know for sure Peter was.”</p><p>“What? You think this place is an ambush point or something?” MJ asks, not skeptical or dismissing, thoughtful as she looks around the area with renewed interest. Scrutinizing everything from a new angle.</p><p>Ned thought about it. What had Vulture been doing here? Had he just been luring Peter somewhere isolated? Or was this just a convenient place to start from to intercept the plane’s flight path?</p><p>“No idea.” He looked around. Warehouses in various states of disrepair but still in use surrounded them. Fences and locks, ‘NO TRESPASSING’ signs warning them away. Even if it looked rundown businesses still used this place, as shown by the current activity.</p><p>It would have been abandoned at night though, or Ned thinks so anyways.</p><p>“Let’s go into the warehouses, if we can. Whichever ones don’t have people around them and aren’t locked up.”</p><p> </p><p>They get through two of them, finding nothing more interesting than a rusty truck, when they get caught at the third.</p><p>They aren’t even inside the warehouse yet. Just walking along the building’s shadow, when a man sneaks up behind them and scares the crap out of both of them.</p><p>“You shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>Ned and MJ both jump about a foot each, whirling around to face who had spoken. It was someone dressed in a neon vest and had a hard-hat on his head.</p><p>“What are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be in school?”</p><p>“Oh we’re…” MJ could tell Ned was floundering trying to think of an excuse. They should have thought of a cover story earlier. “Looking for a place to make-out?” He cringed even as he said it.</p><p>MJ barely stopped herself from face palming.</p><p>She turned to Ned. “No,” she said sternly. Then back to the man. “We’re, uh,—” <em> Shit </em>“—urban explorers!”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, hey that actually works. </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, that!” Ned agreed, a little too loudly. Nodding. “Exactly. We’re totally doing that.”</p><p>If she thought she could do it without the man noticing MJ would have stomped on Ned’s foot to get him to stop talking, but she couldn’t.</p><p>“What?” The man asked, eyebrows coming together as he looked at them, a derisive sort of confusion on his face. “You’re what?”</p><p>“...It’s an internet thing?”</p><p>The man rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Kids,” he muttered, exasperated. “Get out of here, you’re trespassing,” He pointed at the gate they had used to enter the area. “This place is a hard-hat area because it’s dangerous.”</p><p>They didn’t have a choice, nodding silently, chastised they left through the gate he pointed at. Ned could feel the man’s eyes on them, an itch between his shoulder blades. Once they were clear he turned around to find the man gone.</p><p>“This side is busier. It’s, like, all the construction companies. Let’s go to the otherside,” MJ said. “It looks less busy, like it’s used for storage stuff.”</p><p>Ned was feeling more and more discouraged by their little investigative field trip and almost said they should just forget the industrial yard.</p><p>He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. It wasn’t like there was going to be a sign with an arrow pointing to where the Parkers were. But he’d been hoping for something Spider-Man related. A broken web-shooter, a giant metal wing from Vulture’s freaky suit, signs of an epic hero-villain battle. <em> Something </em>that proved Peter didn’t just poof into thin air.</p><p>Ned turned his head, looking around them and finding no one watching. They were here anyways, might as well continue.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“...Making-out?” MJ asked as they walked. “Really?”</p><p>“I panicked. Do you know what I told Ms. Warren when she caught me in the computer lab during Homecoming? I told her I was looking at porn. That’s what I came up with. <em> Porn. </em>”</p><p>He almost regretted telling her, but Ned thinks it might have been the hardest he’s actually heard her laugh. Might have been worth it, even if she was never going to let him live it down. Making someone laugh made him feel a tiny bit better. A little bit.</p><p>“How did you get away with lying to the police?” She wondered.</p><p>“I had more prep time?”</p><p> </p><p>The warehouse was open, tire tracks worn into the ground in and out of the building. A drop-off or loading area, if he had to guess. They were able to walk in with no trouble, the deeper they went the less the daylight reached them. Dark enough that they turned on the flashlight apps on their phones so they didn’t miss any potential clues or, more likely, trip over something.</p><p>He and MJ spread out to cover more ground, the whole place was abandoned. Empty. There wasn’t even any old equipment. He sniffed, he could feel a sneeze coming on from the dust. He swept his light around himself when something caught his eye.</p><p>Ned swallowed, staring.</p><p>The light from his phone didn’t make it look any less like what he thought it looked like, no matter what angle he tilted it.</p><p>“MJ?”</p><p>Hearing the wavering tone in his voice she came immediately, wary about what could cause it.</p><p>“What does this look like to you?” he asked, not looking up, keeping his phone’s flashlight on the same spot of concrete.</p><p>MJ was silent, staring like Ned, then she crouched down, careful. Determined but not wanting to be there any more than Ned did.</p><p>“Not paint,” she said faintly. “I...It doesn’t<em> look </em> like paint.”</p><p>On the concrete, a faint shoe print of rusted-red. Like dried, old blood.</p><p>Had they <em> actually </em>found something? Ned wasn’t sure if he could believe that. </p><p>“Could be from anything.”</p><p>“Or anyone.”</p><p>Ned, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach, crouched down next to her so as to get a better look. “A boot?” he guessed. He wasn’t an expert on the designs of the soles of shoes.</p><p>“Yeah,” she agreed, taking out her own cell phone. “I’m going to take some pictures, keep the light on it. Maybe we can figure out what shoe it’s from.” </p><p>MJ has seen more than her fair share of true crime documentaries, if they could figure out the shoe that had this design then maybe they could find out who owned it. The first part seemed a lot easier than the second, but she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.</p><p>If it was blood, blood connected to what happened to the Parkers, then it was a clue. That was good. But that also meant someone was bleeding, which was bad.</p><p>“What if it’s paint?” Ned asked, adjusting his phone as MJ directed. “Or someone just got cut at work?” He looked around, “why isn’t there anything else in here?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” MJ said. Ned wasn’t sure if she was impatient with herself or him or just getting jumpy from being in a creepy dark warehouse with a might-be-blood shoeprint, but she sounded a little annoyed.</p><p>Not that he blamed her. He wanted to get out of here, even if it might have provided the biggest ‘clue’ they’ve gotten yet.</p><p>She stood, offering Ned a hand up. </p><p>They followed the trail, another fainter boot print, some smudges, then nothing. They took pictures of that too.</p><p>“Do you think we could maybe get the police to test it? They could find out if it’s blood and maybe whose blood it is.” Ned asked as they looked around the rest of the warehouse, this time focusing on the concrete floor.</p><p>“What do we say? ‘We found a red shoe print in Brooklyn can you come see if it’s blood?’” MJ asked, checking that the pictures she’d taken were clear. </p><p>“We could give them an anonymous tip,” he said.</p><p>She perked up, eager to take an option that would alleviate the tug-of-war happening in her head about keeping potentially crucial information from the police.</p><p>“Like ‘hey we found a bloody shoe print at this warehouse in a creepy industrial yard that’s connected to the Parker case’?” She asked. “That would be a great way to give the police some information without you having to tell them what you know!”</p><p>Ned nodded, staring at the red marks at their feet. “It could be paint,” he reminded her.</p><p>MJ felt the small bubble of excitement pop. He was right. For all they knew this was actually nothing, but a smidge of hope stayed.</p><p>“It’ll still tip off the police that this place has to do with the case,” she replied. “It’s anonymous.”</p><p>“We would need to say more than just ‘red shoe print’,” he said, thinking out loud. “They wouldn’t come investigate that right away, it seems too random. We have to connect it to Peter and May.”</p><p>“You could mention Peter being in the area that night?”</p><p>“How would I know that?”</p><p>“That’s their problem,” Mj said with a shrug. “Give them something. Something that’s interesting enough to get them to come here.”  MJ looked around, the dark empty warehouse, dust floating in the air where there was light. She tried to imagine what it would look like to a detective or a cop, what things they would notice that she wouldn’t.</p><p>“I’ll mention Peter possibly being here,” Ned said slowly, thinking. “Say there <em> might </em>be physical evidence in this warehouse?” He looked at the shoe print again.</p><p>“I mean...that’s all we know, right?”</p><p>Ned grimaces, and MJ is reminded that there are things Ned isn’t telling her. Isn’t telling anyone. He hadn’t said anything to her about it but MJ doubted that Ned hadn’t been at least considering telling the police the truth, the whole truth, too.</p><p>“Let’s keep looking around,” he said instead of answering. “Then we head to the next scene.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>‘The next scene’ turned out to be a blackened and blown out storefront in Queens with a cat in front of it.</p><p>“Oh that’s Murph,” Ned exclaimed, smiling and bending down to offer his hand. The cat remained uninterested, Ned frowned.</p><p>“You know the cat?”</p><p>“He’s Mr. Delmar’s cat, the guy who owns the deli.” Ned looked up, grimacing. “It used to be a deli,” he amended.</p><p>MJ squinted at the blackened storefront. “Why do you think this place has to do with the Parkers?”</p><p>Ned gave up on the cat, standing and brushing off his knees. “There were these guys who were robbing the ATM,” he pointed across the street, “but Spider-Man caught them. And in the fight they used a weird alien gun and it blew up the deli instead.”</p><p>If it was just one shot that caused this much damage MJ could appreciate just how bad the alien weapons were.</p><p>“The gun has to do with Vulture,” MJ concluded. “Vulture was here?”</p><p>“No,” Ned said, frowning at the store, “just some guys who probably <em> bought </em>a gun from him.” He looked back down at Murph who was now sunning himself on a warm spot of cement. </p><p>“Are we looking for clues?”</p><p>“Nah, just wanted to point it out to you since it was on the way. The apartment is like five blocks from here.”</p><p>“Five blocks,” she murmured to herself. “If the weapons were blowing stuff up this close to where he lives I guess I can see why Peter…” she trailed off not knowing which word to use.</p><p>“Took it personally?” Ned suggested. “Yeah...it, uh, definitely hit close to home for him.” There was an odd note in his voice that MJ didn’t have time to examine before Ned moved on. “Let’s keep going.”</p><p> </p><p>The hallway to the apartment was empty.</p><p>Picking the yellow ‘CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS’ tape off from where it hung across the door was easy, but nerve wracking. They’d put it back when they left.</p><p>MJ kept expecting someone to jump up behind them to ask what the hell they were doing like at the yard. </p><p>“Ned?” He had a strange expression on his face, MJ was starting to wonder if going to the apartment was a bad idea. The closer they’d gotten to their destination the more desolate Ned had looked.</p><p>He took a breath, speaking without looking, instead frowning at the door.</p><p>“It’s just super weird to think that they won’t be in there.”</p><p>For some reason, she kept forgetting that Ned knew the Parkers.</p><p>Not literally, just what that actually meant. Things like the fact that he would be familiar with their apartment. She didn’t really know Ned that well, MJ didn’t really know anyone that well, so it kept smacking her in the face every time she was reminded.</p><p>The Ned she did know was nerdy and enthusiastic, talkative. The teen with exhausted eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders was a completely different person with the same face.</p><p>She waited a few beats to see if he was going to say more, he didn’t. There wasn’t anything she could say that wouldn’t sound tacky or shallow, so she focused on what they were here for.</p><p>“Do you know how to pick a lock?” MJ asked, looking at him imploringly. She already knew the answer, but was hoping he’d surprise her.</p><p>He didn’t. “No. You?”</p><p>“No. Guess we have to learn,” MJ grumbled, pulling out her phone. “Unless you know where they hide their emergency key?”</p><p>“They don’t have one,” Ned replied. “Someone could use it to—”</p><p>“Break in?” MJ finished for him, casting a look at the door, there was something on the right of the doorpost. She wondered how they had broken in, if it had been loud. “So much for that, somebody already…” she trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Wait a sec.”</p><p>“What?” But even as he spoke Michelle was pushing against the door to the apartment.</p><p>It swung open.</p><p>“It’s not locked!?” Ned exclaimed incredulously. “What the hell?”</p><p>“The lock was busted,” MJ observed, grabbing and wiggling the lock. “Actually if you look close, the frame is too.”</p><p>“The landlord just left it like this?”</p><p>She scoffed, pushing the door all the way open carefully, Ned following her into the apartment. Michelle carefully pushed the door shut behind them. </p><p>“Landlords,” she said disapprovingly. “Guess they hoped no one would notice the door opened. Besides,” she looked around, suddenly uncomfortable, “this place was already robbed.”</p><p>“By a tornado,” Ned added as they stepped into the living room.</p><p>Looking around at the disaster that surrounded them, MJ didn’t disagree.</p><p>
  <em> “Oh my God—!” </em>
</p><p>MJ jumped and whirled around, eyes wide at Ned’s exclamation, only to see what had caused it. She gasped, hands covering her mouth. Horror growing with each pound of her heart.</p><p>
  <em> Blood. </em>
</p><p>Now that she’d noticed the first splatter, looking around MJ was horrified to realize it was everywhere. On the couch, across the floor. Not just drops, full on splashes of red. There were trails of blood leading down the hallway. Her eyes jumped from one stain of red to the next, noticing more and more. </p><p>MJ was suddenly nostalgic for the ambiguity of a red shoe print.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>From my sparse research the stuff MJ mentions about missing persons is true.<br/>The warehouse with the boot print (aka where Toomes saw May in the truck) is a different one than their base/where Peter confronted Toomes, just to be clear. </p><p>This chapter got too long so it got split into two. Next chapter we’re still with Ned and MJ.</p><p>I know everyone is looking forward to a Parker reunion. There is a reason, besides angst, it hasn’t happened yet. I swear I’m not dragging it out just because.<br/>I’m starting to feel like I’m leading people on, so I’ll tell you not to expect it for 2-8 chapters. (I don’t want to spoil which chapter it is. And tbh the chapter lengths are not set in stone) I understand the frustration, I really want to get to it too! Like you have no idea how badly, because I think you guys are going to yell at me and I'm looking forward to it. But stuff has to happen before we get to that part.</p><p>TIMELINE<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fail, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz briefly talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan<br/>October 26, Wednesday: Ned and MJ skip school to search the industrial yard and Parker apartment</p><p>[It's the fifth day that the Parkers have been missing]</p><p>https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Search the Graves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poking around a wrecked apartment MJ can’t help but feel like she’s violating the privacy of her (possibly murdered) classmate and his (equally as possibly murdered) aunt.<br/>While they search MJ learns about the Parker family’s past, Ned begins to consider the grim odds of their future.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from “Tessellate”- alt-J (again)<br/>[search the graves while the camera spins]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MJ was suddenly nostalgic for the ambiguity of a red shoe print.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>This wasn’t a guessing game at all. No ‘it might be paint’ possibility. It was blood, a lot of it. Surrounded by the destruction of the apartment it painted a violent picture of what had happened here. A picture of what had happened to May Parker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop her brain from conjuring up an image of a brutal fight. Of the woman she had only seen a handful of times being attacked by men in ski masks in her own living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Ned repeated, his face had gone gray and he held a hand to his mouth like he was fighting not to throw up. She didn’t blame him, MJ was too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should…” she wasn’t sure, so she said the first thing that popped into her head. “Let’s get some water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found another surprise, and more blood, in the hallway leading from the living room to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a baseball bat on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them touched it, instead shuffling and leaning to get a look at it. “Do you think May used it?” Ned asked. His voice was unsteady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone tried to.” MJ had to clear her throat before the words came out. “Might not have been her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know how ‘x amount of liters’ looked when it was splashed and dried, so she didn’t know if it was actually ‘a lot’. She just knew it was definitely more than she was comfortable with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned nodded, looking like he didn’t trust himself to open his mouth to speak without throwing up. They carefully stepped over the bat without saying anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen looked to be the most undisturbed area of the apartment so far. Ned filled two cups from the sink, silently handing her one. She could hear the ticking of a clock as they sipped their water in tense silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a calendar on the fridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Days of the month were X-ed out, the line of Xs stopping abruptly on the 21st.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It creeped her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frozen snapshot of the Parker family’s life that had been so suddenly disrupted. They’d had no idea they wouldn’t be around to cross out the 22nd. She wondered who did it. May or Peter? MJ couldn’t imagine Peter doing it, he seemed like he would forget to do it everyday. Flaky as he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she calmed down she noticed more details. Like how there were still dishes on the drying rack waiting to be put away. Bright colors caught her eye from a paper on the table. It was junkmail, the colors that she’d noticed were from an ad advertising a sale on purple hyacinths and pink carnations. Just below that she could read the beginning of an ad about outdoor grills. Below that, the corners of envelopes peeked out. For a second she wondered about bills. How did that work when someone was missing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ kept staring at the table for a bit, psyching herself up for more upsetting things. Eventually she continued her examination of the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spotted sticky-notes on the fridge next to the calendar, reminders. Her stomach churned when she read a pink one with ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Homecoming Dance on Friday!!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> written in sharpie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Near those there was a postcard from Germany pinned to the fridge with a magnet and right below it was a picture. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that Ned was in it. It was a picture of Ned and Peter, they were proudly holding up a completed, complicated looking lego spaceship creation. They looked younger, but not by much. Middle-school if MJ had to guess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After finishing their water, they left the kitchen, going back to the living room. Stepping over the bat again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ned looked around the trashed apartment. It looked like a different place altogether with the damage. The coffee table was smashed, turned on it’s side and a leg broken off, basically anything that could be knocked over, was. Pictures, knicknacks, everything, was scattered or broken on the floor. The television was on the floor, screen broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like he shouldn’t touch anything, something that he’d never really felt in the Parker apartment before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was all the blood. He couldn’t forget that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know for sure May was here,” MJ said, thinking out loud. “We know the bad guys who took her were here.” She looked at Ned. “Could Peter have been here? His phone was in Brooklyn but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, unsure. Ned eyed a splintered leg of the coffee table, doing his damndest to ignore the red on the floor next to it. “I don’t think that Peter ever came back here, but I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t look like the type of damage someone with super strength would leave. He looked up. The ceiling was clear of any marks which meant that Peter hadn’t stuck his feet there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would Peter have gotten here from Brooklyn?” Ned asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ paused from where she had been examining the floor around the sofa, she looked up, then turned towards Ned, confusion pulling her eyebrows together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that you mention it,” alarm shot through Ned, “how did Peter even get to Brooklyn from school in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By stealing Flash Thompson’s car.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh.” She waited, watching. “...Can’t tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned shrugged, an apologetic expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you do know how,” she confirmed. He nodded. “And you don’t think he could have gotten here the same way after you lost contact?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering how Flash had been half bragging/half-lamenting that his car had gotten borrowed and subsequently wrecked by Spider-Man, Ned very much doubted it had ever left Brooklyn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned wasn’t sure if it was a lucky or unlucky break that no one actually believed Flash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He mentally fished around for a way to word it, to give MJ something. “The way he got to Brooklyn was, um, one way. I don’t think the way he got there could get him anywhere else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a weird way to word it at all,” she noted, sarcastic but with no bite, teasing. The air was tense as they tried to keep normal conversation even with the disturbing surroundings. “Okay, wherever you want to start,” she told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just look around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned noticed a picture on the floor. </span>
  <span>He crouched to get a better look at the picture. The frame was intact but the glass had spiderweb cracks through it, the picture obscured by the damage and the blood splatters that had fallen on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was recent. The picture showed Peter and May embracing each other and smiling at the camera. Ned’s heart twisted in his chest. A picture shattered on the ground with blood on it in a trashed apartment made him feel like he was in a horror movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was a movie this is the part where the monster would appear behind him and Ned would see its shadow or something as the music turned creepy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She offered me a ride once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned startled, MJ having materialized over his shoulder and spoken nearly right into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not a monster, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ned thought with a relieved sigh, heart beating fast in his chest. Being here was making him jumpy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter’s aunt, um, May. She offered me a ride when my dad  was late after we came back from a competition. I said no but…,” she shrugged. “That was nice of her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she’s nice,” Ned agreed, looking back down at the picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both tried not to sound so sad, but it was impossible when surrounded by the mess of what was once a home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned sighed, standing up, leaving the picture on the floor. He hated to leave it like that, but they were trying not to touch anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They followed a trail of blood, getting distracted on the way by a mess that originated from a closet. At first glance it was a bunch of bedsheets and blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned paused, kneeling, something having caught his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” MJ asked, bracing herself as she walked toward where he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned held out a...piece of construction paper? Puzzled, MJ accepted it, the moment she looked at it she understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a kid’s project. Globs of glue dried years before, unevenly cut construction paper, glitter, and misspelled words unevenly written in marker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i LovE YoU UnkLE BEn</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flipped the paper over. In the corner, written neatly in pen and clearly by an adult, was a date.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>June 18, 2006</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a whole box,” Ned said, drawing her attention away from the paper. She stepped closer, careful not to step on any of the sheets. She shuddered when she saw that some blood had gotten on them too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The box in question had opened when it hit the ground, spilling its contents everywhere. It must have been in the closet along with the sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are those Peter’s school pictures?” She asked before she could stop herself. There was a picture of Peter, significantly younger, grinning widely enough to show his missing front teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned nodded. “Looks like it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ kneeled and picked up another piece of construction paper, this one had a big heart on it, the red marker looks like it dried out halfway through coloring it, but she could see May’s name written messily in all caps in purple marker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess this is where May keeps his little kid stuff,” Ned said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed, trying to force down the sudden new wave of nerves that was building up in her throat. Michelle didn’t even know why, just that everything felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cloying with sadness and creepy because of how abandoned and ruined it all seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a home that had already been violated and she felt like she was doing it too. Like she was invading the privacy of her (possibly murdered) classmate and his (equally as possibly murdered) aunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was different for Ned. He knew them, MJ wasn’t half as familiar with Peter as Ned was, and she didn’t know May at all. She was getting to know them through their wrecked home and it disturbed her. Like trying to figure out what color someone’s eye was by turning it inside out. This wasn’t the right way to see someone’s life. It felt like MJ shouldn’t be here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter’s lived with his aunt and uncle for a long time, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned nodded. “Since he was three, his parents died in an accident.” He paused for a second. “Peter actually doesn’t really remember his mom and dad, just some fuzzy stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three is pretty young,” she screwed up her courage to ask her question. “Um, how did his uncle...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned Looked up, his expression was strained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was murdered,” Michelle’s eyes widened, Ned looked back down, busying himself with examining the other things that had spilled out of the box. “Shot. If you want to be specific.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned at the next paper he picked up. A certificate of achievement of some sort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter and May don’t talk about it.” He placed the certificate back where he found it, holding out a hand for the construction paper in MJ’s hand, she handed it over silently.  “It’s a touchy subject, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, a subdued expression on his face. It reminded Michelle that Ned would have known Peter’s uncle too. “Peter thinks it was his fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?” The questions escape before she can think of a more tactful way to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few seconds she thought Ned wasn’t going to answer. When he did he was speaking in a way MJ was learning meant he was choosing his words carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Ben protected him from the bullet,” Ned told her quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ bit her lip, barely holding back a gasp and looked away from Ned, throat tightening into a knot to accompany the ones already in her stomach. She opened her mouth, then closed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what to say and even if she did Ned wasn’t the one who should hear it. It was Peter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they catch the shooter?” MJ asked, she hadn’t made the conscious decision to speak so quietly, but she did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned shook his head, not moving to stand despite being done with examining the box’s spilled contents. “They know who it was and found the weapon but they haven’t found him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle’s expression twisted. “That...That really sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it does,” he agreed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They continued to follow the trail, puzzlingly it led them straight to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bathroom?” MJ wondered out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned felt mildly nauseous, he couldn’t look at any of the blood too long without worrying about losing his lunch. MJ stayed at the door as Ned carefully walked into the small bathroom, stepping around the glass. He could still hear the slight grinding crunch that his shoes made as he moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mirror was shattered, shards of glass reflected their own faces back at them from below, dried blood on the shards and on the floor. When he caught sight of a blue electric toothbrush near his feet, he had to swallow around the tightening knot in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This might have been why,” Ned said, pointing somewhere near his feet. Michelle, carefully, made her way to his side to see what he was pointing at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A first aid kit?” It was open, contents scattered around it. “Must have been a hell of a fight,” MJ muttered, fidgeting. Ned grimaced, the comment not helping his already wild imagination settle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With their fractured reflections awkwardly shining back at them from broken mirror shards on the floor, MJ speaks. Even with a hushed voice, made timid by the destruction and eeriness around them, the words sound harsh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The secret you’re keeping, is it really worth it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Even with all the blood’ you mean?” Ned asks lowly, avoiding her eyes </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” MJ nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It is,” he tells her, the words sounding heavy. He frowns at the shards at his feet, at his reflection. Thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the ‘Shieldra’ data dump Ned, and the world, knew just how far people would go to get their hands on someone like Peter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter got his powers from a spider bite, which meant that, like the ‘super soldier serum’ that had made Captain America, it could be copied if someone could figure it out. A lot of people have died for different versions of the stupid soldier serum, Ned knew where Peter’s secret getting out could lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Peter’s identity was revealed, even if the Parkers were found alive, Peter would just be locked up somewhere else. May would be killed. Ned could be killed just for knowing about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even know who would do it. A neo-hydra knock off? Crazy scientist? The government? The Russians?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This secret is...It’s not just a big deal. It’s not just because it’s Peter’s that I’m keeping it. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s the reason all of this happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean it’s ‘the reason’ this happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned shakes his head, and she knows he’s not going to answer her question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this secret gets out it might not even matter if they find May and Peter,” Ned says seriously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you say that?” MJ blurts, both scared and frustrated. Almost angry. “How can you—With all of this blood, how can you say that something that could </span>
  <em>
    <span>help find your best friend </span>
  </em>
  <span>is even more dangerous than him being kidnapped in the first place!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned’s eyes flash with temper, but it’s gone just as quickly. His voice is still sharper and louder than it was a minute ago.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can say that because it’s true! This could—It could get them killed anyways! Just us snooping around like this could get </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ looks taken aback, and Ned feels bad about almost shouting at her. She regains her composure before he can decide if he should apologize or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” she insists. “I mean, it’s...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ned.” She gestures to the bloodied sink. Ned doesn’t glance at it, keeping his eyes on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Even if I ignored how bad of an idea it would be to tell,” Ned says grimly, “it wouldn’t help find them. You even said yesterday. Tony Stark is</span>
  <em>
    <span> already</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking for Vulture.” He pursed his lips. “And the thing with Peter and the industrial yard, I’m gonna give a tip to the police. So they’ll know about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Vulture hadn’t figured out Peter’s identity they never would have been able to find May, never would have been able to kidnap the Parkers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe if Peter’s secret hadn’t been found out by Tony Stark Peter wouldn’t have been fighting with Vulture in the first place. Peter told Ned that Iron Man had threatened to tell May. They had both brushed it off, but Ned had been thinking about that a lot lately. Because he’d been thinking about nothing except Iron Man and Peter for days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had worked out with the Avengers, but even the good guys had used Peter’s secret to make him do something. And now Vulture used it for the same thing. Both times it hadn’t actually been Peter’s identity they’d used, not really. It had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>May</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spider-Man’s identity being compromised with Vulture, just</span>
  <em>
    <span> one</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad guy, had done all of this, if it got out to the world...Ned didn’t want to think about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else I tell them wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t be worth it, MJ. I know it wouldn’t.” He had to keep Spider-Man a secret. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was really hard to believe that when standing in the bloodied wreck of Peter’s home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next stop?” Michelle prompted after a few beats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May’s room,” he decided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door swung open with an ominous creak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned gave a start at the sight that greeted them. He squeaked, turning on his heel and covering his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a dork,” MJ said fondly, a little amused despite the unsettled feeling that had burrowed into her bones. She looked away from Ned and into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the drawers had been yanked out, their contents spilled all over the floor carelessly. Including undergarments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a bra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s May’s! It’s weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” she allowed, taking another step into the room. Instantly a too strong scent of something flowery and alcoholic hit her, she wrinkled her nose and breathed through her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small smile that had been on her face evaporated instantly as she looked at the mess. “I’ll look. When we do Peter’s room if his underwear is all over the place you can look through it so I don’t have to. Deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked over her shoulder, Ned’s back was still to the room and he still had his hands over his eyes. He really was close to the Parkers, MJ thought sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swept her eyes around the ransacked room, stepping around the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a picture, face down from being knocked over, on one of the nightstands. Feeling like she was snooping, but unable to deny her curiosity, MJ flipped the picture over. The glass wasn’t broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat back, bringing the image closer to examine it. Two men, two women, and a toddler. After a moment Michelle could recognize one of the women as a younger May Parker, and one of the men was the same man that she’d seen in another photo in the living room. Peter’s uncle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the little boy had to be Peter, right? She squinted. He had a little head of brown floppy hair, she guessed it could be Peter. MJ wasn’t convinced all babies didn’t look almost the same until they were at least five. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid was cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then the other two people in the picture…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looked similar to Ben. And to Peter. His parents, she realized, examining the couple with renewed interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter was in his uncle’s arms, half turned towards the camera with his little hand brought up to his mouth, an almost solemn expression on his face. His father had an arm around his uncle’s shoulders, wearing a wide smile. His mother was pressed into his father’s side, her smile a proud upward curve of her lips. May and her husband were both caught turned towards the other, his free arm resting on May’s waist as they looked at each other in a way that Michelle thinks would be described as ‘adoringly’ in a novel. They were both smiling too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least three of the people in this picture were dead, MJ realized, a strange sadness washing over her at the thought. The picture had to have been taken over ten years ago for Peter to be so little, but May still had it in her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter and his aunt, MJ realized sadly, have had to bury a lot of people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up from the photo, laying the frame down on the nightstand carefully as she let her eyes sweep over the bedroom again, taking in the mess. Now, all five people in the picture might be dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t like that thought. Couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that Peter, that one of her classmates, could just be gone. He’d been sitting next to her at practice last week. Now she was tip toeing around his blood splattered apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took in the chaos around her. The scent that she’d detected earlier was traced back to a broken, sad little plastic bottle of body spray that looked like someone had stepped on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was because a bedroom was a more personal space than the living room but Michelle felt even more unsettled than before. This was the private bedroom of a woman she didn’t know, a woman who had been abducted, violently, and MJ was poking around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. She and Ned weren’t doing this out of curiosity. They had already, potentially, found something at the industrial yard that could help, this wasn’t for nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Head in the game</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she reminded herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If MJ didn’t already know the ‘robbery’ was b.s. she would definitely know now. The untouched boxes at the back of May’s closet were proof. MJ would bet that if she dug around there would be some jewelry there or something. If she could tell it was fake then the police definitely could too. </span>
  <span>She wondered what they thought about it, what theories they had about what happened to the Parkers. Did they think this was a random attack?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling of guilt about not going to the police resurfaced. MJ reminded herself not to push Ned again, he was going through a lot and he’d made it very clear that he wasn’t budging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>May’s room didn’t have blood, MJ observed. The fight, or the injured person (people?) hadn’t come in here. She told Ned as much and they moved onto Peter’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally MJ would have been curious about what Peter’s room looked like. He was so smart but so dorky, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Peter,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she couldn’t help but have ideas about what his living space would look like. </span>
  <span>But it wasn’t normally, so instead of curious MJ was dreading opening the door. She thinks she heard Ned sigh in relief when they didn’t see any red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was surprised to find that he had a bunk bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s room was the same type of messy than May’s had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dresser had been completely knocked over, drawers and their contents caught underneath it. So unlike in May’s room his clothes hadn’t been thrown all over the place. His bed was unmade, the desk chair, laundry hamper, and waste basket were all knocked over. Even the mug on the desk that had been holding pencils wasn’t spared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a picture on the floor of Peter standing between his aunt and uncle at what looked like Coney Island. In another frame was a picture that MJ recognized right away, because she had a copy too. It was a group picture of the Academic Decathlon team from last year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ jumped when she felt something hard through the sole of her converse, looking down she was greeted by the sight of legos. It must have been some structure before, but now it was smashed to pieces, colorful lego bricks scattered across the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something twisted in her chest when she spotted their textbook for Math in the mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were posters about science and one of the Avengers on the wall. She spotted something that looked like it might be a robot or a piece of a computer thrown in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Peter quit robotics club,” MJ says, the words escaping her as the thought occurs to her. Ned turns towards her, then follows her eyes to the robotic-tech she was looking at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He scraps things together from thrift stores and dumpsters. Like, as a hobby. He did it way before high school.” Ned seemed relieved for the chance to talk about something normal. “Peter can build anything out of anything. He hasn’t done it in a while, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t surprise her. Peter had dropped every extra-curricular, only coming back to the AcaDeca team before D.C. Another thing to add into the ‘what the hell did Peter get into’ file of considerations. And that trip had gone spectacularly side-ways, MJ still had nightmares about what could have happened if Spider-Man hadn’t shown up. All her friends, even her teacher, would have died. She pushes the memory away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was as they were making their way out of the apartment, passing through the living room again, when she spotted it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ned?” Her voice was small and shaky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He appeared at her side right away, MJ pointed at the wall.</span>
</p><p><span>“Um. Do you think those could be</span> <span>bullet holes?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of them.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Ned cursed under his breath, getting closer to the holes in question. “Bullet holes mean bullets which means </span>
  <em>
    <span>gunshots.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>MJ could hear the question he was asking himself, because she was wondering the same thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had Peter’s aunt gotten shot? At the very least she must have gotten shot at.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could just be holes,” she said lamely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this wasn’t here before,” Ned said without looking at her. “It makes sense they would have guns, Vulture is a freakin weapon dealer. Normal guns, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s in the wall it didn’t hit a person,” MJ pointed out practically, trying to comfort both Ned and herself. She looked around, at their feet. “And I don’t see any blood around here...Do gunshots change anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means they might be okay with killing May even if she’s a hostage,” Ned said grimly. “You don’t shoot at people you want alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone could have just panicked,” she suggested. MJ wondered when </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> became the positive one, it was a weird feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just—” he stopped, rubbing his eyes. He looked at her, thinking. Then he went ahead and continued his train of thought.  “I saw the door on Saturday, I saw that the apartment was trashed. And, like, I figured May was hurt. Peter...Peter was probably hurt too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I knew that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But just—This...The blood. May was really, really hurt,” his voice grew strained at the end. “They’re gone and the only thing left is </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What if...” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if they’re dead? </span>
  </em>
  <span>MJ could hear the question without him finishing it. It was the same one she’d been thinking since she first learned that the Parkers were missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her chest felt tight, and if she bit her lower lip any harder she was going to break skin. She didn’t have any answers for Ned, didn’t know how to comfort someone when their best friend’s home was a crime scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know where they are,” she told him quietly, using his own words from earlier for lack of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It’s been five days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ didn’t have a response to that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More Ned and MJ! What a mess they found, huh?<br/>I apologize for the delay, but in my defense I live in the U.S. You might have noticed some shit going down these last few weeks.<br/>Next chapter we're with May again</p><p>TIMELINE<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fail, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz briefly talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan<br/>October 26, Wednesday: Ned and MJ skip school to search the industrial yard and Parker apartment</p><p>[It's the fifth day that the Parkers have been missing]</p><p>https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Don't Preach to Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>May's idea pays off. She got Toomes' attention.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is from “Blasphemy”-Bring Me the Horizon<br/>Other songs that go with this chapter and the next: “True Friends”-Bring Me the Horizon &amp; “Saints”-Echos</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The door opened with a metallic creak as the lights came on. May looked up, squinting to get used to the sudden brightness.</p><p>Toomes. Finally.</p><p>“May,” he greeted, walking into the room and frowning severely. He stopped when he was standing about two yards in front of her. May was hard pressed not to feel like a chained animal on display. “Refusing to eat for a couple of days until I talk to you is one way to get my attention,” he grumbled. <em>“What?”</em> </p><p>May glared at him balefully. </p><p>“Let me see Peter.” </p><p>“So that’s what this is about.” Toomes nodded to himself. “I’m really busy right now,” he told her, annoyed. “I’m not in the mood to play games with you. If you drop dead because you won’t eat then all the trouble I went through to keep you alive would be for nothing.” </p><p>“I just want to see my kid.” She represses a wince, her muscles were sore and every little movement reminded her of that. She’d never been more sore in her life.</p><p>He stared at her for a moment, eyes hard and cold. May stayed quiet, meeting his eyes and refusing to look away.  </p><p>Even when he was standing right in front of her she was still trying to reconcile that it was Adrian Toomes doing this, the man she had shared shitty free coffee with while chaperoning an Academic Decathlon event.</p><p>It made her angry. Really, really, angry. That anyone would do this at all was awful enough, but that it was someone she knew was worse. That anyone dared to threaten Peter triggered a primal vicious part of her that should frighten May because of how violent it felt.</p><p>“Now that I’m here,” his eyes went to the bandage around her head. “They’ve been changing that, right?”</p><p>“Why do you care?” They have been, which May hated. For all she knew the person caring for the injury was the one who put it there.</p><p>“I just said that you dropping dead would be annoying, I have enough crap to deal with without you getting an infection,” he reminded her, agitation growing by the second. They stared at each other, the silence stretching awkwardly.</p><p>“...I hope you aren’t expecting me to thank you,” she told him waspishly, accidentally pulling the chains around her wrist. She fought down a wince.</p><p>“Why am I not surprised that you said something like that?” He kept speaking before May could ask what he meant. “Eat,” he orders. “Or I’ll stop feeding both of you.”</p><p>May swallows, she didn’t want to test him. Besides, the point was to get him to speak with her. Now she had the chance to. Finally, May asks a question that’s been rattling around her head for days.</p><p>“How could you?” May asks bitterly. “Peter’s a child. One that you know is friends with your daughter! And me. Weren’t we—”</p><p>“Don’t try to say we were friends,” he interrupts, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes. “You know we weren’t.”</p><p>“We weren’t strangers either,” May said, scoffing at his dismissal. “Is there really nothing on your conscience? No Jiminy Cricket in your ear? I thought you were a good man.”</p><p>“And I thought you were smart enough to know that trying to guilt me won’t work,” he shot back coolly. “None of that matters, I don’t care.” </p><p>He leaned back slightly, straightening his posture and emphasizing his height, his freedom, compared to her kneeled and chained position. May grit her teeth at the display. Without words reminding her what he’s already done, as if she wasn’t reminded with every burning scrape of chains against the raw skin of her wrists. </p><p>“Backstabber,” May said lowly, glowering. A spike of pain comes and goes from her head, she tried to ignore it.</p><p>“I never owed you anything,” he countered, nearly growling. “The second your kid came after my business you became a threat I had to take care of. Even now I can’t talk sense into the brat. Wonder if you could, maybe he’d listen if it came from you.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” May asked, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. She almost leans forwards before the pull at her arms remind her not to.</p><p>He’d talked with Peter. He’d been in the same room as him which meant he could have <em> hurt him </em>. Toomes himself hadn’t actually hurt her, yet. That she could remember, anyways. But May wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant he wasn’t capable of it. And whether it was his own hand or on his orders that it happened, the result was the same.</p><p>“It means he doesn’t even try to understand anything if it’s coming from me.” There’s a slightly exasperated frown on his face as he says it. He shoots her a look that’s almost amused, but his eyes are tight. “He still thinks you can split the world into ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’.”</p><p><em> Yeah, cause he’s fifteen. Asshole. </em> May can’t help but think, giving him a sharp look in response to his comment about Peter. May considered her next move, she didn’t think it would work but she had to try. She was trying every tool and strategy she could think of, but May knew she wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment.</p><p>She felt faint, her head was killing her, and black spots appeared in her vision if she moved too fast. Her little hunger strike had taken an additional toll on her already battered body. But she didn’t have to look like it, not in front of him. She’d spent a long time (days? May didn’t know) thinking of things to say to Toomes, now it was time to see if any of it would do any good. She took a breath, keeping her voice as steady as she could make it. Her body shook but her voice didn’t.</p><p>“I’ll do whatever you want if you let Peter go,” May said seriously. “You don’t need money and I don’t have any.” The words were leaving her much more calmly than she felt. “Use me for target practice for your stupid guns if you want.”</p><p>“I don’t need your cooperation for that,” Toomes pointed out coolly. May fought not to shudder.</p><p>“Let me talk to him,” she tried, “I’ll tell him to listen to you, I’ll convince him not to say anything. Keep me as collateral to make sure he does.” May said, desperate. “You just said he might listen to me,” she reminded him.</p><p>“Yeah, 'might'.”</p><p>“He'll listen,” May said quickly. "I’ll tell him to keep quiet. Let him go. Keep me.” She leaned forward, trying to convey with the limited body language available to her that she meant what she was saying. “I’m the only family he has left, if you keep me Peter won’t risk it. Especially if I tell him not to.”</p><p>The words are bitter in her mouth but they’re true.</p><p>“For some reason, May, I don’t believe you,” he said mildly, unimpressed by the offer. A note of familiarity, of<em> 'I know’ </em>in his voice that rankled. “And I know that you’re wrong. He would risk it.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t—”</p><p>“He already did,” Toomes interrupts. “Remember how I said that I gave him a chance?” </p><p>May’s expression tightens even further, lips pressed into a thin line. She vaguely remembers something like that. The whole conversation that day, either from her head or just shock, wasn’t very clear in her memory.</p><p>“I told him to forget what he saw, to stay out of my business or I’d kill everyone he loved. Used those exact words.” He paused for a moment to stare at May. “You’re top of that list. He chased after me anyways. Wasn’t until you were actually hurt it got through his skull that I wasn’t screwing around.”</p><p>“He knows now,” May insisted quickly. “He would listen now.”</p><p>“He would just leave you here?” Toomes scoffed. “Either you’re lying through your teeth or I know your kid better than you do.”</p><p>May didn’t reply, shooting Toomes a sour look. She hadn’t thought that far, her only goal was '<em>get Peter out’</em>. But Toomes was right, no matter what May told him Peter wouldn’t go along with it for long. </p><p>He smirked, expression sharp in a way May didn’t like. He was laughing at her, she could tell from the flash of amusement in his eyes. “To be fair I do know him better than you, in a way.”</p><p>“What the hell does that mean?” May asked before she could stop herself, angry at the suggestion. Beneath her temper was a growing sense of unease. May was tired of being in the dark, to her annoyance, but not her surprise, he ignored the question.</p><p>“Keeping you and letting him go doesn’t work out long term anyways, even if I did think he would listen,” he concluded with a firm look.</p><p>“Then what does?” May asked bitterly.</p><p>If there was no way out then why keep them alive at all? May wasn’t about to ask. She definitely didn't want Toomes to change his mind about that, but she still wondered.</p><p>“Maybe you’d get it if you knew everything," he said, considering.</p><p>“What do you mean ‘everything’?” May demanded. Whatever it was he considered telling her a tool that he wanted to use wisely. It wasn't a comforting thought.</p><p>Just what could possibly be so bad that he thought it could change her mind so drastically? Just how much had Peter been keeping from her? How much had Stark lied to her? May was beginning to realize that she was the most ignorant person in the entire mess. She couldn’t help but wonder why she was the one kept in the dark and why, ironically, it was Toomes who was the most truthful with her.</p><p>“Haven’t decided if it’s worth the trouble to tell you yet. If you’d even believe me.” He was frowning thoughtfully. She was already beyond annoyed with his vagueness.</p><p>“Fine, don’t tell me. I don’t really care,” May said, switching tracks. “The only truth I need is that you have my kid.” She kept talking before he could reply. “Peter lied to me. That’s on me, I screwed up.” It stung to say out loud, the words sour in her mouth. “And Stark can go fuck himself,” she continued angrily. Toomes didn’t like Stark, not that May felt much differently, but she thought maybe she could use it. “I can’t really take it personally,” she said bitterly. “I wouldn’t be the first parent to lose a kid because of Avengers bullshit, we both know that.” She frowned, feeling the bruises on her face ache with the movement. “But right now<em> you </em>have my kid, not them. And for some reason you won’t let him go!”</p><p>His response is quick, sharp.</p><p>“You shouldn’t even be here! Your kid didn’t give me a choice, I did what I had to so I could protect my family.”</p><p>“Don’t you mean to protect yourself?” May sneered. The glare he shot at her in response was glacial</p><p>“No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “If I get caught their lives are ruined. I get arrested.” His lips twisted, a sharp <em> something </em> in his eyes. “My girl loses her father, and my wife loses her husband. They lose everything.”</p><p>May tenses, jaw clenching at the aching twist of grief in her chest.</p><p>“You know what that does to a family,” he said, more grim than needling.</p><p>She did. May knew the agony of waking up alone in bed every morning, and she knew the desolation in the shadow of Peter’s eyes. May Parker knows exactly what that does to a family.</p><p>He looks away from her, May finally recognizing what it is she sees in his eyes and in the lines of his face. May would wager that just as clearly as she could see the flash of fear in him, he could probably parse out the grief in her. In the end neither of them were very complicated.</p><p>“...I have a question for you, Adrian,” she said, voice wavering slightly, thinking about Ben always twisted everything up inside her, always made her hurt, “what do you think <em> this—” </em> she gestured with her head to reference their surroundings, it caused a wave of vertigo that May fought to ignore, <em> “— </em>does to a family?”</p><p>He looked back at her, frowning questionably.</p><p>“Neither of them know, do they?”</p><p>“‘Course not,” he replies quickly, both his tone and expression hardening.</p><p>“You’ve been lying to them for years,” May said bluntly. It was less of an accusation and more matter-of-fact, but it was just as condemning. She swallowed, the taste of blood had faded days ago, but the phantom of it still sat at the back of her tongue “What do you think that does to a family?” May took a guess. “What has it<em> already </em>done?” She demanded, letting some of her anger leak through. “You can’t tell me your lying hasn’t hurt them. Marriage and secrets is never a good combination.”</p><p>His eyes snap to her in an angry glare, she’d hit a nerve. May is careful to keep the satisfaction off her face, she’s not sure she manages it.</p><p>“Watch your mouth,” he warned.</p><p>There was no way his lying hadn’t resulted in at least one big fight, May was sure of it and his reaction proved it. Toomes loved his wife and daughter, ardently, May knew that if nothing else. Love and good intentions couldn’t make up for a lack of honesty, he would sacrifice that for them but it was a sacrifice all the same.</p><p>It’s strange, May reflects, the thought is slightly hard to keep a grasp on between her headache and the exhaustion. She didn’t expect to have a genuine conversation with Toomes, but she was.  He wasn’t a monster that had been hiding behind the mask of the man she had been familiar with, there was no monster. Just a man.</p><p>For hours as she sat in the dark she had been trying to remember every interaction, trying to find one where May could have somehow known that he was dangerous, that he would do this to her and Peter.</p><p>May felt betrayed by the man in front of her on a level that she couldn’t quite understand. Toomes was desperate to protect his family and she wasn’t a stranger to the terrible things desperate people did. She understood that desperation, it was coursing through her every second.</p><p>“You can stop,” May reminds him. “You can make the choice to stop all of this right now.”</p><p>“And then what, May?” Toomes scoffs. “I go to jail for the rest of my life. I’m doing what I need to.” </p><p>“You’re going to be stopped either way,” she says calmly. The back of her head, neck, and shirt is sticky with blood. The sensation is uncomfortable, May tries to ignore it.</p><p><em> Alright, Adrian</em>, May thinks, gearing herself up. <em> Where’s your head at? </em></p><p>“Why? Because I ‘can’t get away with this’?” he asks, almost mocking. He crosses his arms and looks down at her, waiting for a response. She doesn’t disappoint.</p><p>“Because you’re going to get caught eventually or you’re going to get killed." May shakes her head, holding back a wince. She has to take a moment because of how much it hurt. Getting her head bashed had injured her neck too. "These things never end pretty, Adrian. Live by the sword, die by the sword.” </p><p>Toomes’ expression darkens.</p><p>“Then why the hell should I stop now?” He’s humoring her, but May wonders if maybe she can get him to listen. She can tell just by the way he said it that he’s convinced that he’s too far gone, that this is the only way. “Are you going to tell me that it’s the ‘right thing to do’?”</p><p>“It is the right thing to do,” she says firmly. “This is going to end at some point. The sooner you stop the less charges you’ll have to deal with. I watch the news, the FBI is already on your ass,” her expression hardens. “And if you don’t stop, you’ll be killed. At least in jail your family won’t have to bury you.”</p><p>The response is immediate.</p><p>“Stop talking about my family!” he barks at her. His fuse for that subject was short, just as May had suspected.</p><p><em> Bingo</em>, May thinks, eyes narrowing. He’s taking her seriously now, her original impression of him hadn’t been wrong after all.</p><p>“Why!?” she demands hotly, not having to fake the anger in her voice. “You talk about mine! You can’t attack my family and say it’s for yours!”</p><p>The Adrian Toomes she had known was not an illusion.</p><p>He was a father and he was the man that had helped look for Mr. Harrington’s keys when he’d lost them. They weren’t friends, not exactly, but there had been a sense of solidarity between them in moments. And now she was tied up, beaten bloody, and on her knees pleading with him to let her boy go.</p><p>It made her absolutely <em> furious</em>.</p><p>“Pete stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, you should be<em> thanking </em> me for not killing him right away!” His voice turning harsh as he towered over her, blue eyes blazing. May flinches like she’d been struck, unable to stop the physical reaction to the suggestion of him hurting Peter. He may as well have driven a spear through her gut.</p><p>“I had him right there, and I had a gun. I could have blown his brains out,” he added cruelly, twisting the knife.</p><p>She feels physically ill, static running over her entire body with a horrified shudder. Ice injected straight into her veins.<em> Gun.</em> <em>Peter. Shot. Peter—</em></p><p>
  <b>Ben.</b>
</p><p>
  <em> “Mrs. Parker? This is the police—” </em>
</p><p>May couldn’t remember if Toomes knew what happened to Ben. She thinks he does, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to bring it to mind on purpose, it was just her own stupid brain. </p><p>“You would have never found out who did it, or why it happened.”</p><p>May breathes in sharply through clenched teeth and screws her eyes shut, her body screams at her as she instinctively tries to hunch her shoulders. She can’t, all May can do is slump and lower her head so that her hair provides some cover. May is trying to stop thinking about how close she’d come to losing <em> everything. </em>That she hadn’t rested on the needlepoint of Toomes’ moment of mercy.</p><p>
  <em> Not now. Not now, not now—! </em>
</p><p>“Even now you don’t know <em> why </em>.”</p><p>May had to protect Peter. Her heart is throwing a violent tantrum in her chest and she can’t stop shaking. <em>Come on.</em> <em>Not now. Peter. </em>She stares at the concrete, wondering when she’d opened her eyes, tears run down her nose.</p><p>
  <em> Come on, May. </em>
</p><p>“You didn’t,” the denial is more a gasp than words, directed at the floor. She had to say something, had to hold onto the conversation.</p><p>
  <em> Peter. Protect Peter. </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, I did.” Pause. “You have no idea how many times I’ve almost killed him,” he said darkly. What was he talking about?</p><p>She let her heart pound, let her body shake, let her eyes water, her head throbbed in time with her pulse. She let her body react and focused on getting her mind to calm down. The panic was still there, squeezing at her lungs, but she forced it down. Static electricity lying in wait, buzzing beneath her skin and hitching breaths.</p><p>She catches one, holds it, and swallows down everything else. Her head feels heavy and the joints of her neck feel creaky as she snaps her head up to glare at him.</p><p>“He’s a kid!” The words are wet and slightly shaky but she won’t feel ashamed about crying for her kid. </p><p>“And I’m doing this for mine!” he retorts, matching her volume.</p><p>“And now what!?” May demands, almost choking on the knot in her throat, “you’ve got us! Now what, Adrian!? Are you going to kill us!? <em> Do you murder kids!?”</em></p><p>She probably shouldn’t be shouting at the guy who’s holding her prisoner, part of her thinks. Another part of her notices how even opening her mouth wide enough to yell makes her face ache. </p><p>“A dead hostage is useless,” he growled, agitated and becoming more so by the second.</p><p>“Hostage?” May spat. “Who the hell are we hostages for? We’re not important!”</p><p>Toomes made a sound between a scoff and an amused chuckle. The look he sent her was a wordless reminder that he knew something she didn’t, May swallowed down the insult she wanted to hurl at him.</p><p>“If either of you become more trouble than you’re worth then I will kill you,” he promised. “Or maybe I’ll borrow your idea and just let you starve to death.”</p><p>May scowls, the bruises she was still sporting were surprisingly useful for hiding how scared she felt. Or they would be if her face wasn’t tear stained. She was in pain and scared, angry. There was no hiding that. Her heart was beating a mile-a-minute and she didn’t know if it was fear or anger. The two emotions physically felt very similar.</p><p><em> Protect Peter. </em>The words were repeating in her mind, each iteration more frantic than the last.</p><p>“He’s a child! You can’t have sunk that low!” A plea wrapped up in outrage.</p><p>“I’m doing what I need to. You don’t know what your little bastard has been up to, May. You have no fucking idea what he is.” He spat the last few words, expression becoming more severe with every sentence.</p><p>
  <em> ‘What’ he is? </em>
</p><p>Again with the confusing reference to Peter.</p><p>“I know that whatever it is doesn’t justify what you’re doing to us,” May retorted. She shifted, her bruised knees aching down to the very bone as she did so. She swallowed down a pained hiss and resisted the anxiety that urged her to pull at the chains. May curled her fingers, clenching her hands into fists with all her strength and then relaxing them. Control. If she focused on her hands and not the rest of her it helped.</p><p>“No. No, no, no,” Toomes said, almost playfully scolding. The sardonic smile on his face gave May chills, maybe she hadn’t realized how hard the subject of Peter pushed his buttons. How close Toomes might be to the edge. “You can’t pin this on me! I gave him a damn chance!”</p><p>Thinking quickly, especially when her head hurt so much, was hard but May tried.</p><p>He felt like he had to do this, and as angry as he was at Peter for whatever it is he had done, maybe it was the fact that Toomes felt like Peter had forced him to cross a line he hadn’t before that was really pissing him off.</p><p><em> Family, his family</em>, May reminded herself. If nothing else both she and Peter must be a little too close to his ‘normal’ life for comfort. </p><p>May felt pulled in a dozen directions. Pain from her injuries demanding her attention. Thinking through the ache of her head and fighting not to lose track of her thoughts. Graying out if she moved too suddenly. Trying not to panic. That last one was the most difficult.</p><p>And if she felt like all of that, May realized, noticing for the first time how tired Toomes looked, how frayed at the edges. Maybe he wasn’t as put together as he’d like her to believe. Lines around his eyes made deeper by lack of sleep, eyes dry and tired. He said he was busy. Busy trying to keep away from the FBI, busy avoiding the missing persons investigation that must have been launched by now. She had no idea what was going on outside, May didn’t even know the date.</p><p>Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was feeling trapped.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Thanksgiving</p><p>I am  B E G G I N G  for feedback on this chapter and the next. Because this conversation between May and Toomes has been my baby with this fic. The rest of the fic was basically written to make it happen. It, and the story, changed A LOT since its original inception, but it was always going to happen. It’s early version was literally the first thing I wrote for this fic after getting the original idea, though that particular part is in the next chapter. It's not the climax of the fic, obviously, but I like it a lot and am excited to post it.</p><p>TIMELINE<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fail, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz briefly talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds, then begins her hunger strike<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan, May refuses food<br/>October 26, Wednesday: Ned and MJ skip school to search the industrial yard and Parker apartment, May refuses food<br/>October 27, Thursday: Toomes speaks with May</p><p>[Day 6 of the Parkers being missing]</p><p>There were some vague callbacks in this chapter, can anyone spot them? What do you think of May and Toomes' dynamics compared to him and Peter? Any guesses on what direction this conversation is going to take next chapter?</p><p> </p><p>I hope you guys like May and Toomes<br/>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Killer in Me Is the Killer in You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The conversation escalates. Toomes justifies himself, May twists the proverbial knife.</p><p>You shouldn't bring a proverbial knife to a gun fight.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is from “Disarm”-Smashing Pumpkins, but!! The cover by The Civil Wars is the one I have in mind. It's a good song for Proactive Measures May+Toomes re: themselves and their kids.</p><p>I posted this chapter early because it's done and I'm impatient and super excited to share this one.</p><p> </p><p>Alternate summary for this chapter: May tries to hand Toomes his conscience but he won’t take it so she hands him his ass instead. He doesn’t appreciate it and acts like a dick.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was feeling trapped.</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Adrian, <em> please</em>. He’s only fifteen—!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have to do this if the little prick didn’t involve himself!” His eyes were bright, angry, as he glared down at her.</p><p>She had nothing he wanted, nothing to offer in exchange for Peter’s freedom, but maybe she could get him to see reason. Just enough to make him realize the line he was crossing involving a child in this. <em> Protect Peter. </em></p><p>“Because he’s a kid!” May yells, repeating herself. Trying to drive the point home, to get Toomes to see past his own anger, his own fear of getting caught. “He’s a goddamn <em> kid</em>.” She strained forward, pain shooting up her arms. May bites out her next words. “For fuck’s sake, a store a couple blocks down from us got blown up! Of course he’d get involved! Your weapons ended up on our street!”</p><p>He had to understand that, May thought, but going by the deep scowl on his face he remained unmoved.</p><p>“You’re a casualty, I don’t blame you for being pissed. You should be.” He considered her for a moment. Then, sounding like he was speaking to himself rather than May, he continued, “maybe we don’t have to be on different sides here. Some incentive...” </p><p>“...Are you talking about <em> bribing </em> me?” May asked, incredulous. Despite the situation she was offended.</p><p>“Would you take it?” He asked, scoffing at the suggestion. Tone caught between amused and annoyed.</p><p>“Would you let Peter go if I did?”</p><p>“How stupid do you think I am?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “If I thought you were the type of person who could be bought off I would have offered already.” He gave her a look. “Too bad for all of us you aren’t. Would have saved me the headache.” </p><p>May opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her the chance to talk. </p><p>“<em>Don’t. </em> Don’t try to bullshit me and say that you are.” His mouth twists. “‘We weren’t strangers,’” he quoted back at her mockingly. May saved her breath, shooting him a dirty look. “Besides, I know the little punk wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’s the real problem.”</p><p>“He would if I told him to. He would if you kept me as leverage,” May disagreed, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice.<em> Get Peter out. </em>“He doesn’t know the struggle of trying to put food on the table. Peter has no idea what could have driven you to this. He’s just a kid!” She shook her head, a spike of pain accompanying the movement. She was almost angry and frightened enough to ignore it. </p><p>“What about Liz, would she think any differently than Peter!?”</p><p>It was like she’d flipped a switch, any calm Toomes possessed evaporating in an instant.</p><p><em>“Keep my daughter’s name out of your mouth!”</em> he exploded, expression thunderous and taking a threatening step towards her. May didn’t have to think about her answer, the words leaving her mouth almost as soon as he had finished his own. </p><p>“Keep your hands off of my son!!” May shot back sharply, matching his volume with ferocity.</p><p>His neck and face had gone red, vein popping at his forehead. May’s heart was pounding in her chest, a new wave of adrenaline burning through her as she stared into the blue of Toomes’ angry eyes.</p><p>A few beats of silence pass between them. May and Toomes glare at each other, matching, mulish expressions on their faces. May was deeply aware of her vulnerability. Chained up on her knees while Toomes towered over her, completely free and armed. May’s neck was aching from having to look up at him.</p><p>“What about you?” he asked, he’s angry, eyes sharp and flinty, but the question is genuine. “You know that struggle. What do you think?”</p><p><em> Go fuck yourself, </em> May thought uncharitably, keeping the reflexive reply to herself.</p><p>She pressed her lips into a thin line, pushing aside her irritation and thinking carefully about her answer. Simultaneously wondering what game he was trying to play. Did he really think he could convince her to see things his way? Just what was it that Toomes knew that she didn’t that he thought that was a possibility? She wasted a few moments thinking up nightmare scenarios about what Peter’s ‘internship’ could have been to have led to this, then ignored it in favor of focusing on the conversation with Toomes. He was trying to lead her somewhere with the subject, May had to tread carefully. The pounding in her head got worse, she tried to ignore it.</p><p>“...I think you lost perspective,” she says eventually, honest but careful with her words. Wary. The dread clogging her throat made her feel like she was walking into some sort of trap.</p><p>“What part of my ‘perspective’ is lost?” Toomes asked, eyes narrowing. May almost preferred him yelling, this quiet anger was colder, more calculated.</p><p>It also signaled to her that making him angry wasn’t a way to make him careless, he was demonstrating a good enough hold on his temper that May crossed it off of her mental list of ideas. He had outbursts, but he seemed to reign them in pretty quickly. It meant that maybe he wouldn’t randomly kill them in a fit of sudden rage.</p><p><em> Just in a calculated and decisive rage</em>, May thought morbidly.</p><p>“That’s exactly how all those rich bastards get their money. Stealing from the guys below them. I’m just evening out the odds.” He scoffed. “They make millions sitting on their asses while we break our backs for pennies. They screw over people like us, why shouldn’t I steal from them?”</p><p>“Cut the bullshit!” May spat scathingly. Chain links scrape across the floor with her movement. “You’re preaching to the damn choir, I know they screw us over! Two wrongs don't make a right!”</p><p>Did he forget who he was talking to? Of course she knew. Maybe better than he did. Anger burned brighter at the thought, the emotion building up into a rage May fought to keep down.</p><p>“It isn’t about stealing!” She glared at him. The sting of betrayal that she felt continued to escape her mouth. “It’s about weapons. You’re <em> hurting </em>people!” </p><p>“Now I definitely know where he got it from,” Toomes muttered, almost too low for May to catch, but he continued before she could respond. “And you wouldn’t?”</p><p>May faltered. Unease cutting into the anger. “What?”</p><p>“Hurt someone for your kid. You wouldn’t?” He was needling her.</p><p>May is hyper aware of the dried tear tracks on her face. There’s a stabbing ache in her knees and her wrists are burning, her headache is getting worse the longer they talk. She’s been moving too much. May’s strength, physical and mental, was flailing and she isn’t sure how much longer she’ll be able to keep this up. She ignored it and forced herself to focus on Toomes. </p><p>“...Really?” She asked flatly, not hiding her disdain. She raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s the excuse you’re going with? You admit you’re hurting people but it’s alright as long as you say it’s for your kid?” May was careful to leave out Liz’s name, despite herself she wanted to respect his request.</p><p>“<em>I</em><em>t is.</em>” His tone and expression were severe, the two words razor sharp. “I’m supporting my family. Don’t tell me you’re going to defend the government.”</p><p>She glared, letting her anger towards the threat to her family show on her face, her genuine resentment towards his actions and excuses.</p><p>“That bodega that got blown up wasn’t on Fifth Avenue. And I wouldn’t call the Staten Island Ferry a yacht.” May didn’t bother to reign in her caustic tone.</p><p>He didn’t reply, an impassive, stony expression on his face.</p><p>“The bodega was called Delmar’s. I know the owner, he’s having a hard time. Alien weapon explosions aren't part of his insurance policy, you know how fine print always screws you over.” Her tone was obviously, purposely, deliberate.</p><p>She kept her eyes on his face as she spoke, watched as recognition sparked. Quickly followed by annoyance. He probably guessed where she was going with this, he wasn’t stupid. May had been waiting for a chance to bring this up, waiting to hold up a mirror to make him look.</p><p>“He talks too much, but he’s a good man.” She spoke her next words pointedly, watching Toomes closely. “Single father. He has a seventeen year old daughter and he just lost his business. He lost everything.” She couldn’t help but add something else. “Last I checked he didn’t work for the government.”</p><p>Toomes’ frown deepened. Just as she and Peter were cold hard reminders that he couldn’t separate his crimes from the rest of his life, Delmar’s story was too familiar for him to ignore. <em> Die a hero or live long enough... </em>The thought was almost funny. Almost. </p><p>May kept talking. “Smart girl. Wants to go to college, but right now they might not even be able to keep a roof over thei—”</p><p>“Oh shut up, Parker,” he interrupted, scowling.</p><p>“You can’t just be selling alien crap. What about the normal guns?” May bites out. “How much damage have your weapons caused?”</p><p>To his credit he didn’t deny it, she was right. She could tell by the look on his face.</p><p>“What idiots decide to do with the stuff they buy has nothing to do with me,” he said firmly. He believed what he was saying.</p><p>She swallowed down her first response, wanted to snidely ask if it would have to do with him if someone pointed one of his weapons at his wife and fired. The words were smoldering in her chest, the bitter grief she always wrestled with right below it.</p><p>“It has <em> everything </em> to do with you,” May disagreed harshly. “You’re not hurting the people you steal from, they don’t give a damn what you do. You’re hurting the places where those weapons end up!”</p><p>“Because there were never any guns in New York before me,” he says flatly, voice cold. “I tried to be an honest man, tried to be a good worker. For most of my life I played by their rules!” He was getting more upset by the second, skin turning pink with an angry blush. “What did it get me? What does it ever get anyone?” He asked, scowling at her. “Jack<em>. Shit!”</em> He was shouting, voice growing strained and hitting the concrete walls oddly.</p><p>His raised voice was getting to her, setting off that ‘angry yelling man’ fear instinct that most women developed throughout their lives. She tried to push it down, tensing her sore muscles lest she cringe away from him. May grit her teeth and kept her eyes on his face as he continued. Her heart was pounding a mile-a-minute.</p><p>“What did it get you, May?” he demanded. “Look at where you are!” he spat. He gestured to the room, eyes sharp as he stared down at her. “Your brat is the perfect example! What did it get him? You’re honest. You work hard. You make the right choices, you kiss their asses, pay more taxes than they do, and you still end up fucked!”</p><p>The combination of fear and anger made her jumpy. Aggressive. Some monkey-brain instinct sharpening her tongue for a threat-display with no actual threat to back it up. </p><p>“Cry me a river, Adrian,” May snapped, straightening her posture as much as possible within her restraints. “Millions of people in this country deal with that everyday, but they don’t go around selling guns and kidnapping fifteen year olds! None of what happened to you excuses what you’re doing now!”</p><p>Toomes blinks at her, it’s only a moment, before rage overtakes his expression. He’s clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth must be cracking, the tendons in his neck standing out. She has to fight the urge to make herself smaller, to cower, a spike of terror going through her and chilling her to the bone. May has the very distinct impression that he wants to smack her. She braced herself, waiting for a physical blow, but it never came. Admirable that he’d bother to keep his temper in check, in a twisted captor-way. Not that May was complaining. One good kick to the gut from his steel-toed boot and she would be wheezing on the floor with cracked ribs, not talking back. She thinks all of this with a slight edge of hysteria as she struggles to clamp down on her fear.</p><p>He spoke through clenched teeth, never taking his eyes off of her. “Millions, yeah. And every single one of us is stupid enough to think that if we just work hard we’ll ‘make it’.” The last two words of the sentence were jeering. “All those millions of people keep playing a rigged game and nothing changes. I wasn’t going to be another sucker! Should I have just rolled over like a good boy? For what!? The world would be the same as it is now, there would be guns in the streets. The only difference is that my family and my crew would be worse off.” He was nearly ranting at her.</p><p>Toomes twists his lips and straightens his posture slightly, shoulders back as he glares down at her. Part of May recognizes that both of their tempers were fraying, but the thought is gone in the next few seconds as she focuses on the conversation.</p><p>“I decided I wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing! I was sick of playing their game!” he said, growing angrier with each word. “I stopped letting them screw me and my people over, that’s it. I’m doing this for my family, for my crew and their families,” he said harshly. Speaking in a tone that May knew was a warning for her to shut up. She didn’t. </p><p>“I’m sure they appreciate it,” May sneered. She could really give less of a damn what justifications he used, Toomes knew better than to believe them and she did too. “<em>My </em>family has a few complaints, though.”</p><p>“You can blame your brat for that!” he retorted. "It was fine. It worked all these years until he came along!"</p><p>“Do you even hear yourself? You're blaming a kid," she said bluntly. For some reason Toomes found the comment funny, a sharp, short chuckle leaving his mouth. The sound made May want to squirm with discomfort.</p><p>"For this?" he gestured towards her, towards the chains. "Yeah, I am. That's his fault. The rest of it?" His tone turned disdainful, "I'll blame the fuckers on top for stepping on us all the time." </p><p>Glaring icily and voice gaining a harsh edge, May continued.</p><p>"They don't care about us, but don’t pretend that you’re any better than they are.” She wondered if she should stop, but she was too incensed to hold her tongue. “Because it isn’t some rich asshole that has me and Peter chained up, it’s <em> you</em>.”</p><p>Any goodwill Toomes had towards her was gone the instant those words left her mouth. May could see it in his face. The stony, outraged stare he gave her.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>For a moment neither of them moved.</p><p>He glared at her, May almost thought he wasn’t going to respond, but after a few moments he spoke. Slowly, and deliberate with contempt. It immediately put May on guard, made the hairs on the back of her blood stained neck stand on end.</p><p>“If I was you I would get off my high horse, you’re going to fall off,” he told her, speaking softly. It made his words sound all the more threatening. Then his voice was back to it’s normal volume, tone malicious. “I wasn't going to wait until something happened, because I’m willing to do whatever it takes for my family, <em> unlike you</em>.”</p><p>“Excuse me!?” The sharp, offended retort was automatic. “Where do you get the idea that I won’t?” May demanded, leaning forward enough that the chains pulled. “Just because I didn’t become a criminal to support mine!”</p><p>Toomes scoffed, looking her straight in the eye as he spoke. His next words punching a hole clear through May’s chest.</p><p>“Maybe if you had put in the dirty work like I did your husband would still be alive.” </p><p>May freezes. Staring incredulously and half wondering if she was hearing right. </p><p>“If you had lived in a better neighborhood he wouldn’t have gotten shot.” His tone is frigid. The look he gives her is almost accusatory. "Did your little charity work even cover his funeral?"</p><p>Shock like a kick to the gut from the unexpected mention of Ben, the grief that she always carried with her screaming to life to strangle her pounding heart. One second to the next an inferno of rage exploded, erasing every other thought. The broken spiteful, hateful part of her shattering every barrier, leaving sharp edges in its wake.</p><p>“<em>Fuck you!!! </em>” she says in a snarling voice May doesn’t recognize. It’s so strangled that it burns her throat.</p><p>Without realizing she had tried to lunge forward, the restraints bit into already injured skin painfully, and her shoulders burned at the sudden harsh jerk. A pain noise escaping her even as she lunged forward, teeth bared. So senselessly angry she almost doesn’t hear him speak through the ringing in her ears.</p><p>He makes a show of looking down his nose at her, disdain clear. He actually had the goddamn audacity to <em> look down </em> on her.</p><p>“You know I’m right,” Toomes continued relentlessly, voice matter-of-fact. Vindicated by her violent reaction.</p><p><em> She hates him. </em> He’s kidnapped her and he’s going to hurt Peter. May doesn’t think she’s ever hated someone so much.</p><p>“It’s that simple, May. The work I do keeps my family safe and fed.” His eyes narrow and expression tightens. “Yours didn’t<em>.</em>”</p><p>She hasn’t even decided what to say before she’s spitting out the words, yelling with her abused throat. Everything hurts, every inch of her is sore, burning, aching, or throbbing. She hasn’t seen Peter in who-the-hell-knows-how-long. She can hardly think straight—<em>can’t</em> think straight—and <em>this</em> <em>son of a bitch was blaming her for Ben’s death.</em></p><p>“I’m not going to take shit from the bastard who fucking <em> kidnapped </em> me and my kid! You didn’t stop when you could have, you kept going! Kept making those horrible weapons! Kept hurting people! You hurt me and you hurt Peter! <em> You! </em> Not anyone else!” </p><p>All the helplessness, the fear, the rage that she’s felt since waking up here finally having an outlet. Finally able to scream at the man who hurt her and her family, if she could strangle him it would have been even better. He’d put her in hell.</p><p>Black spots are appearing in her vision, gravity is tilting, and the whole time she’s been yelling she’s been pulling the chains taught, she’s hurting herself, but she’s too angry to care. Toomes of all people was blaming her for Ben’s death? Adrian Toomes? What a fucking joke.</p><p>May snarls, baring her teeth.</p><p>“You want to know what really killed my Ben!?”</p><p>It takes no work at all to call up the angry bitter terrible grief that has made a home in her chest since that night. Angry, hot tears run down her face. <em> Ben. </em></p><p>“<em>A gun! </em> He was killed by a <em> criminal </em> with an illegal gun!!!” she was yelling, screaming, her voice harsh and damning.</p><p>“<em>A man like </em> <b> <em>YOU!</em> </b>”</p><p>And now he was threatening to kill her, to kill <em> Peter</em>.</p><p>Her every nerve is burning and she doesn’t know if it’s fear, pain, or fury. Maybe it’s all three. Or shock. She was shaking. Too angry to even try to register what Toomes’ expression might be through the haze of red.</p><p>“The only thing you have is excuse, after shitty excuse!! You can’t take any responsibility because you know it’s wrong!” May spat venomously. “You’re even using your family as an excuse! You’re not doing this for them, you’re doing this for you! It stopped being about your family years ago, Adrian! <em>And you fucking know it!</em>”</p><p>She’s barely finished the last sentence before May found herself with a loaded gun in her face and her heart in her throat.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SHUT UP!”  </em>
</p><p>His expression is livid, aim steady. His voice fills the room, slamming into the concrete walls. The muzzle of the weapon is maybe less than three feet from her head, Toomes having to aim downward because of her kneeled position. </p><p>“I should have kept you gagged,” Toomes said nastily, spitting the words. His voice was slightly hoarse and wavering with anger. He cleared his throat. “I don’t have to explain myself to you of all people!”</p><p>She’d definitely gotten under his skin, May noted, staring at the gun. Too well. The senseless anger in her is vindicated by that, the rest of her is wondering where Toomes was going to hide her body.</p><p><em> I hate guns, </em>May thought, frozen with fear and thoughts racing.</p><p>A small spot in the middle of her forehead felt warm, like she could physically feel the target drawn on her. Frightened and waiting for everything to be over, she stared at the gun. At this angle May wouldn’t feel a thing. She’d be dead before she hit the floor. Joining Ben and leaving Peter much sooner than she ever wanted to.</p><p>May is breathing heavily from all the yelling, her face is hot with anger, sticky with tears, and her heart is pounding a war drum beat in her chest, adrenaline burning through her and making her jumpy. She watched the gun’s muzzle with wide eyes, it didn’t move, staying firmly trained on her.</p><p>She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d actually seen Peter. The thought that May could die not remembering her last moment with him ached. She could die knowing Peter was still prisoner here.</p><p>With the weapon’s appearance the fear she had almost forgotten about during her flare of temper comes back with a crippling intensity, but she couldn’t afford to be petrified right now, she had to think. <em> Peter. </em></p><p>“You started it,” May ground out, having to cough and swallow several times to speak around the knot in her throat. She'd nearly screamed her throat raw, and was trembling so badly her teeth were almost chattering, it made it hard to talk. She felt both hot and cold, sweat cooling on her skin but feeling too warm.</p><p>She forced herself to look past the weapon and to meet Toomes’ eye. His scowl deepened, blue eyes glinting like knives. He didn’t shoot, didn’t threaten to, but he didn’t put the gun away either. </p><p>“And you can stop it too.” A shaky inhale. “Adrian, you can stop all of this. Or not even all of it. Just one thing. Just Peter. At least let him go.”</p><p>May couldn’t help but try to reach out, a strange urge when right beneath it lay a hearth of rage that would like nothing more than to rip Toomes’ tongue right out of his mouth. She was angry at him, but she knew Toomes wasn’t a monster, he could stop before he had a child’s blood on his hands. May thought so at least. Hoped.</p><p>“I can’t. And I’m not going to. I’m retiring after this! I’m close, so close, to being done.” The last words were borderline frantic, but he reigned the tone in quickly, voice normal when he spoke next. The sudden switch was unsettling. “I’m at the finish line and I wasn’t going to let a teenage bastard ruin everything I built! Not now!” Toomes laughs, the sound so sudden that it makes May jump. It’s more a jagged chuckle than true laughter. His face is still flushed from anger, and the grin cutting across his face only served to unnerve May further.</p><p>“Is that why he got in my way?” she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he hadn’t been asking her. “His uncle. Is that why? Because some low-life shot your husband?” he asked scornfully, the ghost of a smile still on his face adding a hint of mockery. “I didn’t connect the dots until now.”</p><p><em> Said the low-life pointing a gun at Peter’s aunt</em>, May thought meanly. Glaring daggers at him for mentioning Ben again. The curl of his lips turns condescending, and May knows that he’s twisting the knife on purpose as payback for what she’d said earlier.</p><p>May reminds herself that there’s a gun pointed at her head, by the smug look on Toomes’ face he knew she was holding her tongue now and was enjoying the power play. She bit down on the inside of her lip, seething.</p><p>“Or,” Toomes continued, “is it because of his aunt? I can see the family resemblance. Poor kid never had a chance if you’re the example he has to follow.” He shakes his head.</p><p>“You still haven’t told me what Peter was doing that got him involved with you,” she pointed out. Hoping to gauge Toomes’ thoughts on how Peter had slighted him rather than wanting to actually know. Not that she’d mind that either.</p><p>“And I’m not going to tell you until I think it’s worth it,” he said, much to her annoyance. He looked to the side of her for a moment, tense but clearly thinking about something. He seemed to be calming down, May wasn't sure if that was good or bad. The gun stayed steady the entire time. She waits a few beats, but he doesn't say anything else. </p><p>“Why are you even bothering to talk with me?” May asks, frustrated but hoping to nudge the conversation forward. He won’t tell her what’s going on, won’t let her see Peter, won’t let Peter go, and doesn’t want to kill them yet. So why? She casts a quick glance at the gun, then looks back at Toomes as he turned his attention back to her.</p><p>“I haven’t actually decided what to do with the two of you in the long-term,” he told her, frown deepening. </p><p><em> He’s feeling me out, </em>May realized. He was doing the same thing she was doing to him, trying to see what made her tick. Her sense of unease grew, he might not have decided what to do with them yet but he was definitely considering his options. Her head hurt, too much information, too much light, too much noise.</p><p>“The entire truth makes all this make sense, May. Trust me.”</p><p>“Trust you?” May blurted, incredulous. The words leaving her mouth unwisely despite the weapon he still had trained on her.</p><p>“I've been honest with you from the start,” he said seriously.</p><p>It wasn’t as if May had a way to know if he has or hasn’t, so she ignores it. </p><p>“Then tell me why you can’t just stop, why you can’t just let Peter go?” May demanded, her heart was still an angry war drum in her chest, her desperation growing. His expression darkened, temper flashing in his eyes as he spoke.</p><p>“I tried to, he fucked it up. And I only did that because I owed him a debt,” he said, voice low. His words only confused May further. “You know I can’t.” His expression was chilling. “I’ll do anything for my family.” She didn’t miss the threat in his words. The gun currently aimed at her head was a very clear definition of ‘anything’.</p><p>“Adri—” He spoke over her.</p><p>“Save your breath, I’m doing what I have to. Nothing you say will change that.” </p><p>“You didn’t ‘have to’ do<em> this,</em>” she hisses angrily. Rattling her chains and pulling at the restraints as she speaks, glaring hatefully. “Where do you draw the line!?”</p><p>“No line I wouldn’t cross,” he said, speaking calmly and not at all the tone of someone who was talking about hurting a kid. “I’ll pick up a gun and I’ll shoot to kill." May didn’t like the way he was looking at her, a knowing contempt deepening the lines of his face. "Don't act like you wouldn't if you had to.” </p><p>“Don’t lump me in with you,” May bit back. “I’m not a killer.” She gave him a vicious glare, trembling from adrenaline and clenching her hands behind her back, reminding herself of the gun aimed at her head. </p><p>“Not a killer?” Toomes repeats, a spark of renewed interest crossing his face. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Am I—What?” May doesn’t understand the question, the confusion throwing her off balance and his expression immediately causing her hackles to rise.</p><p>“You don’t remember what you did, do you?” There’s a hint of vindictive anticipation scrapes along his words. His expression was the glint off of a wickedly sharp hook, one about to sink into flesh. </p><p>It’s too much like the tone he used when he brought up Ben, May braces herself. She didn’t want to tempt fate, or his trigger finger. She couldn’t afford to lose her temper again, no matter what he said.</p><p>“When you first woke up, did you think all that blood was yours?”</p><p>May’s eyes widened, she could feel the blood draining from her face as her stomach dropped, leaving her lightheaded. She was feeling even fainter than before. May had noticed stains of red that she couldn’t trace back to her own injuries. There were dozens of ways that could have happened so she hadn’t thought about it.</p><p>“...You’re lying,” she breathes. May hates that her voice hitches.</p><p>“That you aren’t sure proves my point,” his eyes are burning into her own. "Don't look so horrified. You were defending yourself, I'm just giving you the details."</p><p>“You’re <em>lying</em>,” May repeats, stronger this time, sharper, straining forward, pulling at the chains even though it brings her closer to the gun. Trying to prove her confidence. It wasn't that she was horrified, May knew she fought back. And she had, as Toomes said, been defending herself. It was the picture of her that he was trying to paint that she didn't like.</p><p>“You put a man in the hospital, May. You were going for the kill. You were stopped, that’s the only reason you can say you're not a killer.” He shifts his weight, never taking his eyes off of her. “A couple of people break into your apartment,” he said, speaking like he was telling a story, “you’re outnumbered. They have you.” He looks her straight in the eye. “Then one of them does something stupid, something I told them not to do. They mention ‘the kid’.” May tenses. “By the look on your face you know how you would have reacted.”</p><p>“Why the hell should I believe anything you say?” May asked, contempt in every word. She was rattled, and she was sure that he knew it. </p><p>“I haven't lied to you,” he reminds her with narrowed eyes. “You got your hands on a bat, you beat the shit out of one of my guys. Tore out a chunk of another man’s arm with your <em> teeth</em>.” An expression between shock and disgust crossed May’s face. “Hit and kicked wherever you got the chance. You set off a gun making a grab for their weapons.” May was frozen, Toomes’ words sharp in her ears.</p><p>She remembered absolutely none of this. Not a single thing. She hadn’t even known that she was in the apartment.</p><p>“What were you going to do with a gun, throw it at someone? There's a reason I'm being so careful with the two of you.” </p><p>The same reason he's keeping them separated, May guessed. She wonders if she should feel flattered that he thought she was dangerous enough to chain down. May gave herself a mental shake, reminding herself to focus. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to play fucking thought exercises with Toomes. She’d let him get her off track.</p><p>“He’s just a kid,” May says quietly. She’d never in her life begged, but if there was ever a time for her to learn it was now. “<em>Please</em>, Adrian.”</p><p>Toomes’ expression soured. “He tried to play hero, now he has to pay the price,” he said sharply. “And he isn’t ‘just a’ anything,” he added with an agitated huff. More vagueness. </p><p>“You don’t need to hurt Peter. You—”</p><p>“The whole time he’s been here he hasn’t been hurt,” he corrected.</p><p>Blood on the bathroom wall flashed in May’s mind.</p><p>“You’re threatening to kill him!” she snapped, swallowing down a hiss of pain when she pulled at the chains around her wrists. She was incensed that he could just brush off a threat to Peter’s life so casually. Furious that he would, even for a second, think she could just ignore it. “Threatening to kill a kid! For what!? It’s—” <em> sick</em>, she almost said, but caught herself before the word got out, “—Look at yourself!” May said instead. </p><p>He shifted his weight, a serious expression settling over his face.</p><p>“If I let you go and put a gun in your hand right now, wouldn’t you try to kill me? You would, because I’m a threat to your family.” A beat. “You and Peter are a threat to mine.” He was confident in his words, but not taunting. Only cold. “If you had the chance you’d shoot me dead, and you'd be right to do it.”</p><p>His grip tightens on the gun.</p><p>“You aren’t better than me, May.”</p><p>They glared at each other, the silence deafening. May grit her teeth, stomach swooping at the words. She briefly considered saying something snide in response but the gun in her face reminded her to reign in the compulsion.</p><p>May doesn’t like how even with the resentful look in Toomes’ blue eyes she can understand what’s behind them, she feels any chance of Peter’s freedom slip away. The despair and worry that have invaded every part of her and consumed every thought only grew. <em> Peter. </em></p><p>“...Let Peter go. I’ll do anything.”</p><p>He gave her a long measured look, contempt only in the shadow of his expression. What does he see when he looks at her, May wonders.</p><p>“I know you would.” The words are cold but oddly earnest. “And so will I. So don’t try to make me choose between my family and yours, May.” His voice darkened with the warning. “I’ll pick mine.”</p><p>With a hard expression that May couldn’t read he holstered the gun, half turning as he did so. Relief washed through her, her muscles loosening the moment his hand left the weapon. She almost slumped in relief. Physically, emotionally, and mentally wrung out. The adrenaline was wearing off, her body was letting her know just how much it hadn't appreciated her thrashing. Her arms especially. Then she registered why he was putting the weapon away.</p><p>The conversation was over. </p><p>May’s heart sunk as he made his way towards the door. She turned her torso, straining against her chains and twisting to follow him as best she could as she shouted at his back.</p><p> </p><p>“That isn’t the choice you have, Adrian!”</p><p>He stops at the door, turning to look glare at her one last time. He was angry, he was exhausted, the line of his shoulders stiff and eyes bright with sharp frenzy. </p><p>“Eat your damn food and I’ll think about letting you see your kid.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TIMELINE<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fail, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds, then begins her hunger strike<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan, May refuses food<br/>October 26, Wednesday: Ned and MJ skip school to search the industrial yard and Parker apartment, May refuses food<br/>October 27, Thursday: Toomes speaks with May</p><p>[Day 6 of the Parkers being missing]</p><p> </p><p>Remember how Ned said that Ben was a touchy subject? He wasn’t kidding.</p><p>So here we have Toomes’ and May’s competing narratives. ‘Have to’ vs ‘Choose to’, what do you guys think of the juxtaposition? Along with lots of yelling and knife twisting. The back and forth of the argument is supposed to give off the vibe of a verbal boxing match.<br/>Notes to myself for this chapter: May and Toomes play a not fun game of 'who can piss each other off the most' and are both very good at it, unfortunately for them.</p><p>P L E A S E  tell me what you think. I've been waiting to get to his part of the story so I could share it and find out what peoples reactions would be. Thoughts? Theories for what happens next?<br/>An emoji. An essay. Anything.<br/>Okay, for real this chapter is important to the narrative of the overall fic and I'd like to see if I hit the mark or not. Just say something pls<br/> </p><p>Next chapter: Ned, MJ, and the Academic Decathlon Team</p><p>TUMBLR: https://astrum-cipher.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. A Mob Jumps to Their Feet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Operation: Find the Parkers gains a few more recruits.</p><p>A walking Spider-Man encyclopedia. A Homecoming date turned first hand witness. Someone who knows about Vulture. Flash, Liz, and MJ.<br/>Something was missing, MJ hopes if they put it all together the picture might make more sense.<br/>Ned hopes the opposite.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is from “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid” by The Offspring. It’s the MJ+Ned song of the fic regarding their organization efforts. It's extremely fitting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Going to school the day after investigating the last known whereabouts of Peter and May Parker was so strange that it bordered on the absurd. </p><p>MJ checked her phone, again, bringing up the pictures she’d taken the day before. A morbid ‘pinch yourself to prove you aren’t dreaming’ reminder of just how real the day before had been. </p><p>After the apartment they’d gone to Ned’s place, MJ briefly meeting his parents, then sat down in his room ‘to do homework’. Ned had confided in her that normally his parents probably wouldn’t have let him have a girl in his room with the door closed, but that they’d been very lenient since the Parkers went missing. Lucky for them.</p><p>She and Ned had looked up blood splatter forensics for almost an hour, trying, and failing, to at least guess what might have happened. Then MJ had watched as Ned took extreme precautions to make sure his voice couldn’t be identified and that the call couldn’t be traced before he called into the tipline and left the information about the industrial yard.</p><p>MJ isn’t sure, since she’s never seen anyone do it before, but she thinks Ned had set everything up way faster than what was normal. Everyone knew Ned was good with technology, MJ was just starting to realize exactly how good.</p><p>Now it was Thursday and MJ had gone to her classes like normal. Like the principal hadn’t announced on Monday that one of her schoolmates and his family were missing, as if MJ hadn’t seen the destruction and blood left behind from the crime just yesterday. During class she took notes like usual, but her heart wasn’t in it. She and Ned had stayed together during break and lunch, not really talking. MJ had only been pretending to read her book as Ned pretended to eat his lunch, both of them thinking about the same thing. She hadn’t slept well the night before, it looked like Ned hadn’t slept at all.</p><p>She firmed her resolve as she headed to her destination. The work was just beginning, she and Ned couldn’t afford to be spaced out now. The clock was ticking, every hour counted. Classes had ended and they had Academic Decathlon practice to take over.</p><p>She and Ned had contacted Mr. Harrington the day before, their teacher was more than happy to help them with their requests.</p><p>The path was cleared now they just had to run it.</p><p>MJ opened the door to the classroom, the chatter of her teammates greeting her ears, a quick sweep of the room confirmed that Ned was waiting for her. Mr. Harrington nodded at her, a grimace that might have been his attempt at an encouraging smile on his face. They had seven more minutes until practice usually started.</p><p>“Hey,” Ned greeted.</p><p>“Hey,” she returned. “Ready?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Me either,” she muttered, looking around the room again. She and Ned had flipped a coin about who should do the ‘introduction/recruitment’ speech, she’d lost.</p><p>Mr. Harrington clapped his hands together, expression uncharacteristically serious as he got everyone's attention. </p><p>“Alright! So we all know that this is not a normal practice. Ned and Michelle have asked if we, as a team, could help in the effort to find Peter and his aunt. This is entirely voluntary, of course, and is not an official Academic Decathlon activity or meeting. If you wish to opt out, you may leave now.” He looked at the gathered students. “You can quit or join at any time, and you get to choose your own level of involvement. Everyone on the same page?”</p><p>A chorus of ‘yes’ and nodding was the response. A couple of their teammates left the room, but more stayed than MJ and Ned had dared hope for.</p><p>“Let’s see if we can keep em’ here,” she muttered to Ned.</p><p>“You got this, MJ.”</p><p>“Now, I’m going to step back. From this moment on Michelle and Ned will be in charge of this meeting.” As he finished he looked towards the pair, nodding.</p><p>He took a seat at one of the empty desks to listen, like he was just another student.</p><p>“Um.”</p><p><em> Great start, MJ, </em> she thought sarcastically to herself. <em> Come on, pretend it’s a round at a tournament! </em>Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ned nod encouragingly.</p><p>She took a bracing breath. “Okay,” she said loudly, maybe too loud. “We all know that Peter and his aunt went missing. Me and Ned have thought up some stuff that we can all do to help find them. If you want to help.” She frowned, taking time to look around the room and briefly meet some people’s eyes.</p><p>“Peter and May Parker don’t have any immediate family,” she said bluntly. “No one to bug the police or pass out missing posters. Ned and I want to make up for that and we need as much help as we can get.” She took a breath, straightening up and tried not to show how upsetting she found her next words. </p><p>“Because statistically speaking, with what we know of the case, the numbers aren’t on their side right now.”</p><p>“You think Parker is dead!?” Flash exclaimed, alarmed. Murmuring broke out among the students.</p><p>“Wha—No!” MJ snapped.</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Betty said, turning around in her seat to speak to Flash. She jerked her head in Ned’s direction non-too-subtly, Flash seemed to get the message, sinking down in his seat. Ned looked like he couldn't’ decide if he was mad or embarrassed. </p><p>MJ took a second to appreciate that Flash had refrained from his usual insulting nickname for Peter before she continued.</p><p>“This case should be getting attention. The Parkers are sympathetic victims, we just need people to know about them.” It didn’t really get any more sympathetic than a widow and an orphan, MJ noted to herself, remembering the picture she’d seen in May Parker’s room.</p><p>“The apartment was broken into,” Ned said, the room’s attention shifting to him. “There had to have been fingerprints or DNA left behind, right? This isn’t a case without clues, people just have to care enough to actually look.” He shared a look with Michelle. “And there’s no way Peter or his aunt would have gone without putting up a fight.” </p><p>Both she and Ned knowing just how much of a ‘fight’ had happened in the apartment. She took a breath and added on to his statement, everyone’s eyes returning to her.</p><p>“Someone had to have seen something. Friday night and no one noticed a woman or a kid getting thrown in the back of a van? Possibly injured?” Though it was less ‘possibly’ for May and more 'definitely', she thought grimly. “A city of eight million and not a single person saw anything? I call bull.”</p><p>“So you want to stir up media attention in case there were any witnesses that haven’t come forward,” Liz summarized.</p><p>“Exactly. We have to give people something to pay attention to besides just how the Parkers aren’t here,” she said. “We called around to news stations, they said they’d maybe give it airtime if we made it more...Well,” she frowned. “They said interviews with family asking the public to help was their go-to…” she trailed off.</p><p>“They said interviews with friends would be fine too,” Ned said, breaking the awkward silence. “So if anyone has any stories about Peter, that’d be good.”</p><p>“They want people to cry on camera,” Flash said flatly.</p><p>“Flash!” Liz scolded.</p><p>“He’s right,” Ned said, lips thinning. “They didn’t say it like that but it’s what they meant.”</p><p>“See?” Flash said to Liz, eyebrows raised. </p><p>“We had another idea too,” MJ said nodding at Ned for him to explain. It had been his idea, anyways.</p><p>“If we, Midtown Tech, held a vigil with candles and flowers and stuff and invited some media it would be something they could film and put on t.v. We asked Principal Morita, he gave us permission to do it on campus. We just need to organize it.”</p><p>“Candlelight vigil,” Liz said, she looked around the room. “We can totally organize that.” A few of their teammates nodded in agreement. </p><p>“It’s not confirmed yet, but we’re going to try to set it up for Saturday or Sunday,” Ned told the class. “We’ll let you guys know what’s going on. We’re going to invite the whole school, hopefully enough people show up that it can be put on the news and social media.”</p><p>MJ took a breath, then addressed the entire room again. “Speaking of social media. Everyone has a twitter, right?”</p><p>Everyone except Harrington nodded, puzzled at the random question.</p><p>“We need everyone to retweet from the NYPD’s missing persons twitter. They put up a tweet for Peter and May each. It has pictures and their basic information.”</p><p>“There’s a twitter for missing people?” Liz asked, surprised.</p><p>Ned was the one that answered. “Yeah. They never get any likes or retweets, but it’s a thing.” He shifted in his seat. “Tell everyone you know to do it. I made a facebook group, an account on insta, and a twitter account dedicated to Peter and May’s missing person case."  He frowned. "Let me write them on the board so everyone can follow them.”</p><p>Michelle nodded, adding “we need the most people as possible to see their faces.” She swung her backpack in front of her, opening the zipper. “Which is why Ned and I made these.”</p><p>She took out stacks of paper.</p><p>Missing person posters. For May and Peter each. They had both asked their parents for the money to print them in color.  She passed them out like she would when passing back homework, it was a strange comparison.</p><p>“Everyone take however many you think you’ll put up. We’re going to be making more.” She and Ned watched as everyone took about a dozen papers for each. The image of the wrecked apartment flashed in Michelle’s mind.</p><p>This felt like they were at least doing something.</p><p>“Tomorrow Ned and I will have more information about the vigil. We also want to talk to everyone and to make actual plans on where to hang up posters so that the most people can see them. That’s what we’re going to be talking about in the meeting tomorrow, mostly.” She took out a notebook and laid a blank page down on the desk. “Everyone put your name, cell number, and email on this list so we can get a headcount on how many people we have. Tell your friends and bring them with you if they want to help. We haven’t secured a classroom yet for tomorrow but I’ll send out a text.”</p><p>“How about my place?” Michelle turned to Liz. “I think everyone has been to my house before,” she continued. “And I know my parents won’t mind. That way we can stay as long as we need to and you don’t have to worry about getting a room.”</p><p>MJ thought about it, liking the idea right away, partly because they were hoping to get Liz more involved anyways. She looked to Ned to make the final decision. He shrugged.</p><p>“What time would work for you?” Michelle asked.</p><p>A few minutes later they had agreed to an afterschool meeting at Liz’s house the next day. There they would hammer out the details of the vigil and how they were going to spread the word. Ned wanted to get them trending at least locally, MJ thought that if they really tried they could make it happen.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Afterwards there wasn’t much to say or do except answer peoples questions. When the activity tapered off Ned made his way to Liz.</p><p>“Liz, you didn't have to do that,” Ned says. “We can do this anywhere.”</p><p>Her expression is tight, she brushes back her hair, not looking at Ned. “I’m the team captain and Peter was my...yeah.” She pauses for a moment, then looks up. “I can’t stop thinking that—” She stops. Starts again. “I keep remembering when he ran out of the dance. I saw that he was freaking out, I shouldn’t have let him go. Maybe if I stopped him—”</p><p>“Hey,” Ned interrupts firmly. “No. Liz, you can’t think like that. <em> I </em> was the last person to talk to Peter. I’m his best friend, I should have stopped him,” he says with more meaning than she could ever know.</p><p>“Um. Ned?” He looked at her questionably.</p><p>“Do you know what happened to Peter’s uncle, like exactly?” LIz paused, taking a breath. “They’re gonna ask. The news. You need to decide how you’re going to answer.” Her voice was even. </p><p>He was glad to see her confident team-captain self, she’d been quiet ever since Monday. MJ had been right, giving people a way to help was good. </p><p>“I know,” he replied. He did and he wasn’t sure what to do. “What should I say? I mean Peter and May…,” he frowned. “The more tragic the better, right?” He said grimly.</p><p>“Probably,” she said after a moment. Not liking the answer any more than he did.</p><p>“The case for his uncle is cold.” He shuffled his feet, looking back to Liz. He wondered if that fact made it more newsworthy or not.</p><p>“...That’s awful,” Liz said, grimacing. “I’m not going to tell you how you should answer. You know them and what they would want, and you’re the one who’s going to have to talk. If you don’t want to mention it, then you don’t have to.” She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Betty would know more about how to talk to the news than I do, you should ask her."</p><p>“If they talk about the shooting, they’ll talk about the shooter,” Ned said thoughtfully. “Maybe it could help the murder case <em> and </em>the missing persons case.” </p><p>“You don’t have to say anything about Peter at all if you don’t want to,” she reminded him.</p><p>“Are you going to say anything?” he prodded gently. “Since, you know, you were his date.”</p><p>“I should,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what I would even say about that night though.” She shrugged. “I was thinking I’d just tell a story I have about Peter or something, because Homecoming night was...I don’t know what even happened,” she admitted.</p><p>“You don’t want to mention that you were Peter’s date?”</p><p>“Not really? Why?”</p><p>Ned bit the inside of his cheek. He’d been preparing himself to talk to Liz all day about it, but he still had to gather up his nerve now that the moment was here.</p><p>“For the vigil we were thinking that some people could maybe make speeches. Set up a podium and a microphone and stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “Me, because yeah, best friend. Maybe a teacher or one of their neighbors or something. Would you…”</p><p>“You want me to give a speech?” Liz asked, surprised.</p><p>He took his hand from his neck, feeling awkward and nervous. He didn’t really want to do it, getting in front of so many people, and maybe cameras, and talking about Peter and May made him feel weird. Even if it was just a short speech. But if it helped he’d do it, he’d even speak for five hours if he had to.</p><p>“It’ll be short, something they can use as a super quick soundbite,” Ned explained. “You were his date and you’re captain of the Academic Decathlon team, the same team that made the news before because of what happened in D.C.”</p><p>“Interesting for t.v.,” she summarized. “Romantic because of the date thing, exciting because of the Washington monument, and inspiring because I’m team captain.”</p><p>“Basically,” he replied, not sure how he felt about the blunt assessment. It sounded really clinical when she put it that way, even if it was right.</p><p>For a couple of moments she didn’t say anything, Ned remained quiet, giving Liz time to think.</p><p>“If we get people talking about the case like you want then you and me might be the faces of it,” Liz said quietly.</p><p>“Not if you don’t want to, you don’t have to do anything, Liz,” he said, both firm and reassuring. Inwardly he hoped she still would. Any help they could get he wanted. Even as he thought that something inside him squirmed with the fear that letting people get so involved was a risk for the Spider-Man secret.</p><p>“I want to do something,” she said firmly. “I’ll think about the speech, I’ll have an answer tomorrow.”</p><p>“Thanks,” he said, “for everything. Inviting us to your house and stuff.”</p><p>“Ned...What do you think happened to them?” Liz asked after a few beats. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking to people, it’s all so weird. My dad said maybe Peter got into something he shouldn’t have. And it kinda looks like that but that doesn’t make sense to me.”</p><p>“I mean, maybe,” Ned said uneasily, not wanting to say anything specific. Liz's dad wasn’t exactly wrong, in a way Peter had gotten into something he shouldn’t have.</p><p>“Why kidnap both of them?” she continued. “For what? Why did Peter know something was going to happen? Like, did his aunt have a stalker or something? That’s the only thing I can think of. Did he tell you anything like that?”</p><p>“He never said May was having problems with anyone,” he replied, honest but the words feeling clunky in his mouth. Ned felt guilty, Liz was worried, everyone was, and he was lying to them. “...You’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he added, not knowing what else he could say. Liz’s idea seemed a lot less fantastical than what actually happened, it wasn’t a bad theory.</p><p>“Hasn't everyone?” she asked grimly.</p><p>They had. Even teachers weren't sure how to act. Especially with Ned, everyone either awkwardly talking around it or being way too blunt about asking him questions.</p><p>The conversation ended there, Ned excusing himself to speak to someone.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It had gone a lot better than MJ had hoped it would. The real test would be to see how many people showed up tomorrow but if today was any indication they weren't doing badly at all. Already, according to her phone, the missing persons tweets for the Parkers had doubled in likes and retweets. The numbers were still low, but they had gone up, at least.</p><p>She made her way over to where Mr. Harrington was standing next to where Flash and Liz were sitting, desks turned towards each other, and examining the missing persons flyers. Flash had a weird look on his face and she decided she should investigate the cause.</p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p>Flash is holding onto one of the posters, frowning at it.</p><p>“Have you—,” he stops, looking up at Michelle then back down at the poster.</p><p>“What?” Michelle asks.</p><p>He shakes his head, frown taking on a sharper edge as he avoids her eye.</p><p>“Flash?” Mr. Harrington asks, prodding but gentle. “You look like there’s a thought you’d like to share.”</p><p>Flash chewed his bottom lip, she could see him gathering up his nerve, and his cocky front that so often lacked the confidence to back it up.</p><p>“Are these the only ones you made?”</p><p>“Yes,” Michelle says sharply. “What’s wrong with them?”</p><p>The question comes out more defensive than aggressive.</p><p>“Nothing! Jesus,” Flash replies, eying Michelle like she might bite him. “Just…,” he glances at Mr. Harrington, the movement almost too quick to catch, but the teacher nods encouragingly anyways, “they’re in English.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“They’re only in English,” Flash says, holding up the poster. “What about Spanish? Or Chinese? Queens is the language capital of the entire world and these are just in English.” He can’t hold her eye, looking away with a huff. “That’s where Parker lives, right? Queens or something?”</p><p>“That’s an excellent point, Flash!” Mr. Harrington praises. It’s subtle but Flash holds his head a little higher, either from relief that his point wasn’t shot down or from the praise.</p><p>Mr. Harrington looks at the posters with renewed interest. “Having at least a few dozen of these translated into different languages is a really good idea, and since they’re simple it shouldn’t be too difficult.”</p><p>“I—Uh,” MJ brushes back her hair, caught off guard but pleased. “Yeah. That’s...smart.”</p><p>“Don’t sound so surprised,” Flash grouches.</p><p>“As soon as we get the translations I can get them printed,” Liz volunteers, not waiting for anyone to deny the request. “Flash, you should be in charge of doing that. Choose two people to help you, as soon as you’re done send them to me and I’ll print them out.”</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>Liz was team captain for a reason, MJ reflected, making a mental note to try to copy the other girl’s confidence. </p><p>“Thanks,” MJ told her.</p><p>“Excellent,” Mr. Harrington says, voice tight. “I’m proud of you guys.” He glances towards the door, then back at Michelle. “I have to go, but let me know if there’s anything you or Ned need, alright?”</p><p>Michelle nodded, face warming with embarrassment from her teacher’s undivided attention and soft voice. It felt weird. With a wave he was gone.</p><p>“Michelle.” She looked up, meeting Liz’s eyes. “Did you see anything weird Homecoming night? Like…,” she gave a frustrated sigh. “I keep thinking about it, trying to figure out something.” She gave a half-hearted smile. “I’ve been asking everyone. The only weird thing, besides Peter, was that Flash’s car got stolen.”</p><p>MJ had heard about that, but not the exact date. “That happened same night Peter went missing?” she asked, surprised.</p><p>“It was Spider-Man,” Flash said defensively. “Nothing to do with Parker.”</p><p>“You’re still saying Spider-Man crashed your ride?” someone asked as they passed by on their way to the door. Clearly disbelieving. “Are you sure a guy in a weird costume didn’t just jack your car, dude?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Flash snapped, he turned back to MJ. “Anyways. My car doesn’t have anything to do with whatever happened to Parker.”</p><p>“Wait," Liz said firmly. "Wait, time-out. Couldn’t it have something to do with it?” she asked, eyes sharp with a new idea. “Like, if Spider-Man was around maybe there was a bad guy around too. And Peter does sorta know Spider-Man, right? And Iron Man? And it isn’t like Spider-Man hasn’t been around us before.” She grimaced, the expression shared by Flash and Michelle as they all remembered what happened in D.C.</p><p>“...You think whatever happened to Pen—Parker,” Flash corrected quickly, wincing, “and his aunt has to do with <em> Spider-Man? </em>”</p><p>MJ frowned. The secret. The Stark internship. Did it have to do with Iron Man and Spider-Man? If it was an Avengers secret that would definitely be important enough for Ned to keep to himself, though wouldn’t Iron Man be involved already? Why would Ned have to try so hard to get Stark’s attention if that was it? It didn’t make sense.</p><p>“What? A bad guy followed Parker home and kidnapped them?” Flash continued. “If Spider-Man was actually around he would have stopped it,” he said confidently. "And what would a villain want with Parker and his aunt, anyways?"</p><p>“That’s true…,” Liz agreed, still not looking convinced.</p><p>From the corner of her eye MJ could see that Ned had gone very still. She wondered if he was getting mad that they were talking about Spider-Man instead of the Parkers.</p><p>“But you know, now that I think about it, Spider-Man actually hasn’t been seen since...” Flash paused. “Since Homecoming, actually,” he concluded, eyebrows scrunching together worriedly.</p><p>“By you,” Liz pointed out. “I believe you,” she said quickly, seeing that Flash was about to object. “But it was weird right? You even said his costume was off.”</p><p>“It was the thing he used to wear before he helped the Avengers. Still cool!” He rushed to say. “But it was weird that he switched back.”</p><p>“...Too bad ‘Spider-Man’ isn’t a subject for Academic Decathlon,” MJ noted, taking a seat at a desk and turning it towards Flash and Liz so they were in a semi-circle. This conversation was getting interesting and MJ was desperate for information. Maybe if she put everything together, even with the holes in what Ned told her, she could make sense of it.</p><p>“But I have a theory about the costume!” Flash said eagerly. “And I’m not the only one. The last time Spider-Man was seen, like really actually seen, was after he fought that metal-bird guy on the ferry. Right?” Liz and MJ nodded. “Tough fight. Bad guy got away, Spider-Man needed Iron Man’s help.” He fidgeted in his seat before settling again. Antsy. “So, get this, people heard stuff. And there are pictures. Iron Man and Spider-Man weren’t getting along.”</p><p>“They had a fight?” Liz asked, surprised.</p><p>“What is with the Avengers and fighting each other?” MJ wondered aloud.</p><p>“Spider-Man isn’t an Avenger and it wasn’t a <em> fight </em>-fight,” Flash corrected. “Like, an argument. Spider-Man only got his new costume after the Avengers fight in Germany. Basically everyone agrees it’s Stark-Tech.” By ‘everyone’ Michelle is sure he meant ‘the internet’. “So if they had a fight maybe Iron Man took the suit away.”</p><p>“Why would Iron Man do that?” Liz asked, mouth twisting into a frown. It didn’t surprise MJ, ever since D.C. anyone who wasn’t a huge fan of Spider-Man had become one overnight. The guy saving all their lives had left an impression, lots of her teammates were defensive of the local vigilante. “That’s dumb. Didn’t Spider-Man’s old costume suck?” </p><p>“It didn’t <em> suck </em>,” Flash said, offended on Spider-Man’s behalf. “It wasn’t Stark-Tech but it worked!”</p><p>“Still,” Liz insisted. She huffed. “I wonder if the costume was on the Avenger plane. Maybe a bad guy has it now.”</p><p><em> Vulture, </em>MJ suddenly remembered. The Avengers plane was robbed by Vulture, who Peter had been trying to stop, it was why he and his aunt got kidnapped. Vulture fought Spider-Man and Iron Man when the ferry was cut in half.  Spider-Man was on campus Homecoming night. All the information felt like a knot, she had to gently pull apart the tangles, force would only make the knot worse.</p><p>“That’s a really good question,” Flash said.</p><p>“Okay,” Michelle said. “Assuming Spider-Man was using his old costume because Stark took away the new one, it still doesn’t explain why he was on campus that night, or why he needed Flash’s car. And just like Peter and his aunt he hasn’t been seen since.”</p><p>“He takes breaks, or avoids cameras, sometimes,” Flash pointed out, pleased to have so much information to offer. “Before that night he hadn’t been seen since the ferry thing. Maybe he’s just keeping a low profile.”</p><p>“He could be embarrassed about the costume thing,” Liz said practically. “Maybe he doesn’t want everyone to guess he had a fight with Iron Man.” Flash nodded along. “And maybe the costume is why he was here?”</p><p>MJ and Flash looked at her questionably.</p><p>“If Peter helped him with his stuff before, and he needed help with it and couldn’t go to Iron Man because they were arguing—”</p><p>“The internship!” Flash blurted, slapping an open hand down on his desk, looking at MJ and Liz with wide eyes. “Parker said he lost the internship! Wasn’t that the same week as the ferry thing? When Spider-Man and Iron Man argued?”</p><p>“You think it’s related?” MJ asked. She decided to skip over the fact that apparently Flash now believed that the internship had existed when he hadn’t before. </p><p>Liz hummed to herself, brushing her hair behind her ears and staring at the desk.</p><p>“This all<em> has </em>to be related,” Liz said firmly. “The same week Spider-Man and Iron Man argue, and that Spider-Man loses his Stark-Tech suit, Peter loses his internship,” she said, frowning. “The last time Spider-Man was seen, that anyone knows, was the same night Peter and his aunt went missing,” she summarized. Her brows furrowed.</p><p>“And,” MJ interjected, a nervous anticipation building in her chest. Avengers and Peter, Vulture and Peter, the plane... “It’s the same date that the Avenger plane got robbed.” </p><p>“It totally was,” Flash confirmed, he sent MJ a look of confusion. “But why would that matter?”</p><p>They didn’t know about Vulture, MJ remembered, scrambling to think of an explanation. Thankfully Liz rescued her from having to think up a lie on the spot.</p><p>“Because Iron Man is connected to Spider-Man and he’s connected to Peter. And the timing...” MJ hid her sigh of relief. She could almost kiss Liz for the save. “Both Spider-Man and Peter were right here on campus the last time they were seen. Around the same time. Spider-Man’s costume was downgraded—”</p><p>“He borrowed my car,” Flash reminded her.</p><p>“He borrowed Flash’s car,” Liz added dutifully. She looked at Flash. “And...crashed it?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he nodded. “They found the wreck in B—”</p><p><em> “Can we get back to Peter and May!?" </em> </p><p>Ned slapped a folder onto a desk to MJ’s left, a sharp <em> thwak! </em> Interrupting the conversation. All three of them, MJ, Liz, and Flash, jumped. Ned’s face was flushed as he stared at them.</p><p>“Sorry,” MJ said sheepishly, sharing a guilty look with Liz as Flash directed a sour look at his desk. “Ned,” she said seriously. “Do you think this could have something to do with what happened? Spider-man and...And a bad guy?” She didn’t know how to refer to Vulture in front of other people.</p><p>“...I guess,” Ned said unconvincingly. Awkward. </p><p>MJ squinted at him. He knew something. </p><p>“How?” Flash asked, rolling his eyes. “Spider-Man would have stopped whatever happened if he was there. He lifts cars with one hand!”</p><p>MJ ignored the comment, focusing on Ned. He was doing a bad job at looking like he wasn't avoiding meeting her eye. Maybe one of the reasons he was so defensive over the thing he knew wasn’t him being paranoid, but because he was worried someone would <em> figure it out. </em></p><p>Which meant that someone could. Ned thought there were enough clues lying around that someone could put it together if he wasn’t super-duper careful. MJ felt a renewed sense of determination. She wouldn’t ask Ned to tell her, not again. His lips were sealed.</p><p>MJ was going to figure it out herself.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TIMELINE<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fail, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds, then begins her hunger strike<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan, May refuses food<br/>October 26, Wednesday: Ned and MJ skip school to search the industrial yard and Parker apartment, May refuses food<br/>October 27, Thursday: Toomes speaks with May, Ned+MJ mobilize the Academic Decathlon team </p><p>[Day 6 of the Parkers being missing]</p><p>The thing Flash says about Queens is true! (or was in 2016)<br/>Poor Ned, he’s sweating. The problem with hanging out with so many smart people is it’s hard to keep them from figuring stuff out.<br/>Having thought about Homecoming so much for this fic it really is a miracle more people didn't find out Peter's secret. Among so many other things.</p><p>Next Chapter: The grass-roots effort to find the Parkers ends up in Vulture’s living room.</p><p>Thoughts? Will Ned and MJ's efforts do anything? What do you think Vulture's reaction is going to be when he hears about Liz getting more involved? Will MJ figure out the Spider-Man secret?</p><p>Please comment</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Kill Your Conscience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Toomes mulls over the Parker dilemma. Unfortunately, Liz does the same.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is from “KILL YOUR CONSCIENCE”-Shinedown<br/>Other songs that go with this chapter “Guilty Conscience”- Charlie &amp; Church, “Oh My Dear Lord”-The Unlikely Candidates, and Enjoy the Silence-Depache Mode Cover</p><p> </p><p>In my mind Adrian is a melted marshmallow when it comes to Liz and he has a hard time putting his foot down with her. He’s still a raging dick to the Parkers though. Vulture contains multitudes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the thousandth time, Toomes wondered if he could actually get away with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was difficult to keep on top of all the different investigations they were dodging, what wasn’t hard to miss was when authorities ended up in the industrial yard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been sweating bullets since he found out, and they weren’t even that close to the base. From what they could tell authorities hadn’t caught onto their scent. Not yet. But they were there and it was too much to be a coincidence. </span>
  <span>It had been years since he sweated so much about getting caught. The sick buzzing feeling of fear that made his skin crawl was an old friend. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, more awake than if he’d chugged down five coffees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should kill them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simple way to get rid of the issue. Except it’s hardly his only issue and he needed to think it through before he threw away opportunities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t keep them locked up indefinitely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut with a heavy sigh. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>, what am I doing…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus; kidnapping, hostages.... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was playing the entire thing by ear and hoping it didn’t blow up in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keeping the kid—</span>
  <em>
    <span> Spider-Man </span>
  </em>
  <span>he corrected, alive was a risk. Toomes hadn’t been sure the alien device would work on suppressing the freak’s powers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Checking on the kid had revealed no warped metal, and making him angry hadn’t triggered any super-strength. Unfortunately trying to make the little idiot see the big picture had gone nowhere, he hadn’t really expected different, but he’d hoped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spider-Man was a good hostage to have in his back pocket and keeping May alive was a fail-safe. Even if Peter did regain his abilities he wouldn’t be a problem as long as May had a gun to her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easy and simple, even if it put a bad taste in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes also needed to find a very delicate balance of selling their supply as fast as possible without tipping off the authorities. He'd been looking through his records of buyers, most of them weren't going to want to touch it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could take months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially since he was running short on manpower. Toomes frowned at the thought, fingers rubbing the edge of his phone but not turning it on. He didn’t blame his crew for cutting loose and running, those that could were smart to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been keeping the most troubling things close to the vest. Only need-to-know. Toomes couldn’t risk spooking the few men he had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea that he’d been turning over and adding to in his mind surfaced again. He’d been putting it aside because it seemed risky, but if authorities were this close anyways then that changed things. Toomes clenched his jaw, sitting back in the car seat, lost in thought. There was no way out but through. He came to a decision, exiting the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Done right, it completely solved the Parker problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes sighed, pocketing his phone and shelving the thoughts about Vulture and work. He cast a look at his front door, plastic pumpkins and fake spider webs lightly decorating the house for the upcoming holiday. </span>
  <span>Doris had texted him that Liz had friends over, it was odd because he hadn’t thought Liz was in the mood to socialize, but if it took her mind off Peter then he was happy for it.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I coulda sworn I only had one kid,” Toomes said, stepping into his living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz looks up, a grin appearing on her face. “Hi, Dad,” she greets happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, honey,” he returns her smile, then sweeps his eyes over the rest of the kids that had taken over the living room. “So what’s going on here, should I order pizza?” Toomes asked, walking closer to the coffee table to look at the papers there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Toomes,” one girl says, looking up at him. “But thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently nudged Liz’s shoulder. “When was the last time you ate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” she hissed, casting a sheepish glance at her friends before sending him a sharp look. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to insist when he caught sight of the flyers, heart jumping into his throat. “What’s this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missing persons posters,” Liz replies, holding one up. “For Peter and his aunt. Ned and Michelle started putting them up and asked if the team wanted to help” her tone was almost challenging. “We have to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes watched as the other kids’ eyes all turned towards Liz, her confident announcement settling over the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the moment to look at the kids more closely, mentally matching them to any parents. This wasn’t just a group of Liz’s friends, it was the Academic Decathlon team. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to organize a vigil too,” she continued matter of factly. By the stubborn look on her face he knew she had made up her mind and there would be no changing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger he mentally directed at Spider-Man flared, a suffocating band around his lungs. He lifted up one of the posters, Peter’s face stared back at him. </span>
  <span>There was a pounding headache building up behind Toomes’ eyes. The poster showed an awkward, twiggy teen whose picture was taken before he could get a full smile out. The reality was a punk who quipped one-liners as he threw punches strong enough to flip a tank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment his eyes caught on the age section.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Barely fifteen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, May’s voice said in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t been exaggerating, the kid had turned fifteen two and a half months ago, give or take. Fifteen was young. Younger than most of his grade because of his birthday, Liz was the same way—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut off the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spider-Man was a freak of nature who, if given the chance, could break Toomes’ spine with only a flick of his finger. People like Peter were dangerous, he couldn’t forget that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” Liz’s voice called him out from his head. He put the flyer back onto the table, giving Liz his full attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz held a few of the flyers in a pile in her hand. “Would you mind putting these up or passing them out at your work? We’re asking all our parents to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz held out the pile of papers. He accepted them without thinking, face feeling like rubber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, pumpkin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at the flyers, the one on top was for May. In the picture she was smiling brightly, a world away from the pale, beaten woman with a bloody head that had begged him to see her kid. Even further away from the pure venom of her glare when she first found out about Peter being caught too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz trusted him. If she knew...Toomes shouldn’t think about it, but he couldn’t help it. This was why he never mixed his business with his family. She was too young to understand the world beyond black and white—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What about Liz, would she think any differently than Peter!?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>— she wouldn’t understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes pressed his lips together and bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing back an annoyed growl. If he’d known that May was going to get into his head he would have kept her gagged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz thanked him, he looked around at the group of kids in his living room rather than meet her eye. Why did Liz keep getting dragged into Parker’s problems? He wondered, agitated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t surprised that Liz would want to do something, she was a go-getter, sitting around wasn’t ever an option for her. He was proud of that, proud that other kids followed her lead, even with something like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes watched Liz, feeling both sorrow and gritty resolve, his spirit settling as he reminded himself what was at stake. From the recess of memory the phantom scent of hospital antiseptic reached him. </span>
  <span>It didn’t matter what he had to do or how, he had to do everything he could to protect what he’d built.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, directing it towards Peter.  </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sleeping well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes had sleepless spells when things got dicey at work, it wasn’t new to him. He never took the sleeping pills Doris bought for him unless he really had to, tonight he was thinking he might have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that lately Liz hasn't been sleeping well either. The simmering resentment he felt towards the brat deepened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching the doorway into the kitchen he stopped to watch Liz, unaware of his presence. She was seated at the table, hunched over a pile of papers and pencils, using an organization system understandable only to her. He eyed the mostly empty water bottle on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz, it’s getting late,” he called, slippered feet meeting tile as he walked into the kitchen. Toomes was already ready for bed but he noticed that Liz didn’t look like she planned on sleeping any time soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just—” she grabbed some papers from a folder, not taking her eyes off the paper cluttered table as she spoke to him. “Homework. Tell-Tale Heart,” she explained, annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he reached the table Liz held out a packet of paper, the title of the story printed in bold. Toomes squinted at the text, then he held it further from his face, the letters becoming easier to read with the distance. His eyes weren’t what they used to be, he noted to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
    <span>Still. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We’ve been doing these stories all month because of Halloween, just like every other high school in America.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes wasn’t listening, instead staring at the highlighted passage in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head snapped up, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, gumdrop. I’m already half asleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. God, it hadn’t been this hard to lie for a long time. It was like getting punched in the throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz leaned back, a worried frown on her face as she brushed back a lock of hair. Her tone was as shrewd as it was concerned, it was one he was sure she’d learned from her mother. “You’ve been out of it for a couple of days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Work,” he replied, the answer a reflex by now. “Just some…,” he searched for a word, “unexpected problems. You don’t need to worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz schooled her expression, shrugging as she sat down at the table and shuffled the papers there. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she groused, already knowing what he was going to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom already talked to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did she say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz crossed her arms, looking to the side as she spoke. “Take care of myself,” she nearly muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes made a sound of agreement, watching as Liz nearly rolled her eyes. The burrowing worry in his chest twinged as he took in the troubled expression on Liz’s face, the faint shadows under her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just worried about you. Your mom told me you skipped lunch today--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ate a snack! I’m not a baby!” she replied defensively. “I’m seventeen,” she sniffed. Only someone as young as Liz would think that was a winning argument, he reflected. “I can take care of myself now. Are you guys going to be calling to check everyday when I go to college?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A combination of pride and sorrow breathed to life in his chest at the reminder of college. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to let her go. The farther she was the less he could protect her. Everyday there were new horror stories on the news about what happened to girls on college campuses, each one a new nightmare for him to mull over as Liz’s graduation day neared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a bad idea,” he mused, pushing away the darker worries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” she complained half heartedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence filled the kitchen, Liz’s eyes fell on the table, he followed her line of sight and saw more of the missing persons posters from earlier. Immediately his mood soured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on in your head?” he asked Liz gently. He already had his suspicions, and if it was up to him he wouldn’t bring it up, but Liz looked like she needed to talk about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shot him a subdued smile before looking down again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just...The day they made the announcement at school, when I was in the office, I talked with Ned. He told me about Peter’s family,” she shrugged. “I asked, because, you know, I only ever heard about his aunt. It’s just sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew May was a widow,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Against his will his thoughts wandered upstairs, to the bedroom where Doris was probably settling into bed for the night and waiting for him to finish ushering Liz to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe if you had put in the dirty work like I did your husband would still be alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The expression on May’s face had been—It didn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"His name was Benjamin Parker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I looked it up," Liz said, a hard look in her eyes as she returned a paper to one of her folders, the words almost stiff. "Peter's uncle was named Benjamin. It's Peter's middle name too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes absolutely did not need or want to know that, he definitely didn't want Liz to either. He had enough with the two alive Parkers, he didn't need a dead one to start causing him trouble too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter and his aunt don’t have any relatives,” she bit down on her lip. “I think that’s why Ned and Michelle are going so hard on this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Toomes thought grimly, May had been telling the truth. The kid didn’t have any other family, nothing close, anyways. Liz sighed, slumping in her chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess I've just been imagining what would be different if they had someone," she confessed. "If his uncle was alive, would they still be missing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed silent, letting Liz gather her thoughts without prodding. She had been quieter ever since what had happened at the Washington Monument, more afraid of the world. This new problem was the last thing she needed so soon after that. If he could shoulder the burden for her, he would. Instead he was part of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just really want to help find them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You have to take care of yourself first.” He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “That means sleeping before midnight young lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Liz nodded, looking up and giving him a muted smile and waving him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated, knowing Liz hated his hovering. “If you’re going to do a lot of walking putting up posters,” he began, trying and failing to forget just what was on said posters, “be careful, bring your bag with you.” Liz opened her mouth. “Not a request,” he added as firmly as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Done with homework for the night?” he asked after a few beats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “I’m tired,” Liz confessed. She looked more than tired to him, she was almost forlorn, his heart twisted at the sight. Liz was turned to the side of the seat, hands in her lap and eyes cast downward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have stopped him,” she said without looking up, startling him. There was no question who she meant. Toomes walked towards her, kneeling in front of her and laying a hand over Liz’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t have.” Her only response was to shrug weakly. “Oh Liz,” he sighed, lamenting. “You don’t deserve to go through this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The words were gravelly but felt sharp, getting caught in his throat. Kneeling with soft words was as close to an apology as he could give, it always was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up, sad, deep brown eyes meeting his pale blue. “...That’s funny,” Liz said quietly. “Peter said something like that, when he left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toomes looked at their hands so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. Instead of a response he stood up, wincing as his knees cracked. “Time for bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, hopping off the chair. “Yeah, goodnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bent down to give her a quick kiss to the top of her hair, he took an extra millisecond to appreciate the moment. Liz was his everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight. I love you.” He couldn’t apologize to her, couldn’t explain. This wasn’t enough, but it was all he could give her. Toomes strangled any remaining doubts, urging his temper to smother any discomfort. There was no choice. He would do what he had to, he promised himself darkly, hardening his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than anything.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TIMELINE<br/>October 21, Friday: Homecoming Dance, Parkers are kidnapped<br/>October 22, Saturday: Parkers reported missing, news breaks on cargo jet robbery; May regained consciousness and spoke with Toomes<br/>October 23, Sunday: Ned continues to try, and fail, to reach Iron Man or Happy<br/>October 24, Monday: Ned informs school of the situation, Morita makes an announcement, Ned and Liz talk in the office. Peter leaves a message in the bathroom sometime in the afternoon/night, May sees the message and responds, then begins her hunger strike<br/>October 25, Tuesday: Interviews conducted, Ned recruits MJ to help. Toomes speaks to Peter, Peter reads May's message, MJ and Ned make a plan, May refuses food<br/>October 26, Wednesday: Ned and MJ skip school to search the industrial yard and Parker apartment, May refuses food<br/>October 27, Thursday: Toomes speaks with May, Ned+MJ mobilize the Academic Decathlon team<br/>October 28, Friday: Team meeting at Liz's, authorities investigate the anonymous tip Ned gave re: the industrial yard, Toomes comforts Liz</p><p>[Day 7 of the Parkers being missing]</p><p> </p><p>Apologies for the delay, multiple relatives of mine fell ill and we've have multiple deaths due to covid-19. Wash your hands, stay inside, wear your masks, and stay safe. And get vaccinated if you can.</p><p>So Toomes is feeling the heat from authorities and getting nervous. And unintentionally guilt-tripped by his kid.</p><p>Please comment. I'm still not sure about this chapter but I want to get back into writing this. Next chapter is what everyone has been waiting for so your feedback is extra important. The reunion, as you imagine, is a turning point of the fic's plot so it's important. Tbh the reaction to this chapter is probably going to play a part in how fast I publish the next, because if no one cares about the fic anyways...I already know how it ends, I want to share it but putting the effort into that is hard right now and might not be worth the pay off if other people aren't enjoying it. </p><p>What are you hoping for/afraid of with the reunion? Any theories? Tropes you'd like to see? Who's PoV is your favorite? (Toomes, May, Peter, MJ, Ned?) Thoughts on characterization? </p><p> </p><p>What do you think Vulture's solution to "the Parker problem" is? (i'll give you a hint, the Parkers aren't gonna like it)</p>
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